Bedeviling the Chipper
by Maygin
Summary: “Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.” – Germaine Greer
1. Chapter 1

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

By: Maygin

Summary: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

Sidenote: This isn't exactly like my other Supernatural fics; this one actually has a plot. I'm not saying it's anything special… but it'd probably be a good read. I can only hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The chapters get longer down the road, I promise.

Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Chapter One**

It was the sunniest day he'd seen in a good long while. The sky was a spring of fresh blue, stretching for miles, and the air was cool and crisp but not biting. The happy critters of the air and land were scampering about, playing their games and singing their songs in the safety of the beautiful atmosphere. And here he sat, alone on a bench in the middle of a small park downtown. He was alone, hunched over, elbows on knees, head in hands, completely oblivious to the loving caress mother nature had bestowed upon the mid-day. His world wasn't consistent with the budding tides of spring… all he saw was grey, and all he felt was numb… numb but for the ball of broiling despair that was pressing against his inner cavity; pounding against his chest… trying to squeeze it's way up his throat… and straining for escape against the back of his eyes. Here he sat… alone.

This was it, it had finally happened. He was on his own from here on out. Everything was going to change and he was going to have to face whatever cruelties life decided to hurl his way by himself. He linked his fingers together behind his head, squeezed his eyes tightly closed; trying very hard to extinguish that damned persistent ball of anguish.

He wasn't even fully aware of where he was… only that he'd walked around in a state of numb shock, disconnected from his surroundings for about an hour before coming to exist on this bench for the next two hours. His butt was certainly aware he'd been in this position one hour too many, however it had simply numbed itself right along with the rest of him.

He didn't know what to do. He knew there was a choice here and he even knew which he was _supposed_ to be making… had promised to make, but… he couldn't, and then the frustration of all the confusion and disparity combined into that damned ball which once more was working its way up his throat, wiping clean all rational thought processes. He'd called his father… but that had been so helpful the _other_ ten times he'd called him, he was coming to terms with the fact that _help_ was not an acquaintance that would be knocking on his door anytime soon if ever again.

"Excuse me," Dean didn't look up, he could see the pair of designer shoes in the top corner of his vision, but didn't have the energy or want-to to spare in answering; if he ignored the stranger maybe he'd go away, "Are you Dean Winchester?"

Hearing his own name pulled at him slightly, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to leave his morose thoughts yet. "Go away." His voice sounded drained and dead and he hadn't even put the energy into lifting his head to acknowledge his visitor. Looking up would reveal a world he wasn't yet ready to re-join. He distantly noticed the shoes turn slightly, and then some annoyed mumbling reached his ears. And then a sigh, the kind of sigh a kid gives his mom when she asks him to take the trash out right as the killer reveals where the body is stashed during his weekly obsession.

"You're brother died this morning right?"

Well that did it… Dean snapped back into reality. He lifted his head slowly, a quiet, dangerous look in his eyes. The thin man's eyes widened almost comically and he took a step back, recognizing the threat. He took a few more steps back as the eldest Winchester stood and slowly walked towards him. "You a reporter?" Dean asked accusingly.

The delicate man held his hands up in the classic surrender pose and shook his head in fear, glancing to his left for help. "Then this is your lucky day," Dean stabbed a finger into the blond man's chest, "you get to live. Now get hell out of my face." And with that Dean pushed past the man; again with the walking.

He heard a high-hat huff behind him and then a loudly whispered and annoyed, "I know!" before the sound of expensive shoes clicking on concrete reached his ears. This one obviously didn't take a clue.

"Um, excuse me," the thin man, about Dean's height, long blond hair, obviously styled in a salon, panted slightly as he caught up. He stepped in front of Dean's path and actually rested a… were his nails manicured… hand on his chest to halt his progression. He seemed to recognize the Winchester's dislike and added on a slightly nervous laugh to try and demonstrate his friendly stature. "I have this problem you see-"

"I don't give a shit." Dean shoved the hand off and pushed past once more. It didn't seem to help; the guy was persistent, he'd give him that. Blondie stumbled along beside his fast paced walk.

"Well… maybe you should."

"Fuck off!"

"You've obviously got a lot of pent up anger, not to mention being incredibly rude-"

"Look!" Dean whirled on him like lightening, entangling his hand in the Prada shirt. "My brother, possibly the last member of my family, is currently sitting in a little white room; practically brain-dead, hooked up to God knows how many machines keeping his shell of a body alive so that they can turn him into a political debate on morality! You don't know the beginning of my anger." The last was said in a dangerously low voice, but he continued on. "I can't get in to see my brother because a straight-A Stanford drop-out was suddenly found nearly brain-dead in an emergency room with no cause and his older brother, a convicted murderer was found dead six months earlier. So technically I don't exist, and since the father of the _vegetable_ is currently AWOL, power of attorney goes to the government. Which means my little brother's body is going to waste away in an empty room for the next five years or however the hell long it takes for politicians to pull their heads out of their asses and let nature have her way!"

Dean stared hard into the other man's wide eyes; his nose a mere inch from the other man's much larger nose. The other man seemed to be weighing his words carefully before he opened his mouth, "You have gorgeous green eyes do you know that?"

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion before reality clicked in. He shoved the man away in disgust. Now that he was taking a closer look, the guy was obviously a flake. "What the hell do you want?"

"How detailed would you like me to get sugar?" The man put a delicate hand on his hip and smiled flirtatiously if not completely inappropriately considering the situation. He suddenly looked to his left and held up his other hand, palm to the sky. "What? I'm just being honest." He seemingly defended to a tree. He then rolled his eyes and gave a greatly annoyed sigh, which Dean was quickly realizing was this man's _thing_. "Oh for God's sake, _fine_." The blond head turned sulkily back to the confused and now wary Winchester.

"What are you nuts?" Dean cut the man off before he could even begin.

"Oh I'm more than just _nuts_ honey," he leered, "there's brains in this beauty. I'm the whole package." He suddenly held a hand up to his left in the classic stop-sign, forestalling whatever it seemed the tree was going to say; and now it seemed he was down to business, his focus on Dean. "Look, I know you're in a bit of an emotional hurricane right now, but I need you to focus on the here and now. Carpe Diem is banging on your door sister." The man finished with a matter-of-fact tone, hand on hip once more. Dean frowned in distaste at _'sister'_. "You handle supernatural problems…" Dean's head perked up slightly despite his dark mood. The blond fruit-cake smirked smugly. "And I have a supernatural problem."

Dean blinked. "What you have is a supernatural brain tumor."

The man flung his hand, carelessly brushing off the jest. "Whatever. It's _your_ brother; therefore it's _your_ problem."

"Excuse me?" Dean was beyond tired of this… if the man wasn't so feminine, he'd have put his fist in his face several times already.

"Boy you're a quick one aren't you?" the man said in his loud, nasally voice. He walked closer and put a graceful hand on the eldest Winchester's upper arm, garnering his attention. "Your brother…Samuel Winchester… is haunting me." Fruit-cake's eyebrow suddenly quirked and he squeezed Dean's bicep appreciatively. "Do you work out?"

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

By: Maygin

Note: For those of you having a hard time visualizing the OC, think Carson from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy… for some reason I could not stop thinking of him when I wrote this character. Stick with this guys… reviews are MUCH appreciated ;)

**Chapter Two**

"Come again?"

And there was that sigh again, followed by an overly-done roll of the eyes. "Your brother Sam is _haunting_ me."

Dean shoved the man's hand off his arm in frustration, "Yeah I heard you the first time dickhead, what I wanna know is why the hell I should believe you."

Flakey looked to his left again with wide eyes, shaking his head. "Honey you weren't kidding."

"HEY!" Dean blurted in anger. "I don't have time for your _shit_. Sammy is dead and if you think for one-"

"It's Sam."

Dean froze, mouth still in the 'one' formation. "What?" he whispered as something small seemed to flicker inside him.

"He keeps saying its Sam… not Sammy, or Samuel or whatever." He flung a hand carelessly in the air. "He's kind of a stubborn little guy isn't he?"

Dean swallowed, suddenly unsure. One thing was for certain though… the little flicker of hope had suddenly flared to a raging inferno. But he didn't know what to say next. …_what the hell did a guy say in a situation like this anyways?_ He eagle-eyed the other man warily though as Flakey suddenly glanced to his left, seemingly listening, and then took a deep breath.

"He also says he's sorry about Mr. Churbie… who the hell's Mr. Churbie?" he gave Dean a confused look.

Dean cleared his throat, and looked at the empty spot to the man's left. "He uh…" he swallowed again and licked his lips, his voice soft, "he was our hero… when we were kids."

"Oh," the man's eyes roamed uncomfortably, "Sooo what happened to him?"

"He died," Dean answered quickly, "Sam?" he called out.

"How did he die?"

"Where's he at? Sammy?" Dean walked over towards the tree.

"It's Sam and-" Fruit-cake held his hands up in distress, "you almost walked right through him, would you be careful?"

"Where? Here? Sam?" Dean swiveled around. "Can he hear me?"

The other man _sighed _again and rolled his eyes dramatically, "Yes of course he can hear you."

"Sam, talk to me, what the hells goin on?" Dean's eyes searched desperately around him.

"Well if he knew do you think we'd be here?" the man asked with an obvious 'duh' in his tone.

"Dude." Dean held a hand up forestalling any other _helpful_ comments blondie had to offer. "Just tell me what he's saying."

With pursed lips, "He says he's not dead, not yet anyways and that…" he nodded to whatever he was hearing, "he doesn't know what happened or how to get back to his body, or if that's even possible."

"Oh it's possible." Dean said firmly. "I'm gonna make sure it's possible ya hear me?"

"You know," Flakey sighed pleasantly, "if I weren't being haunted by your nearly-dead brother, this would be such a sweet, touching moment." He batted his eyes, "Two brothers overcoming death to reunite. They should make a movie abou-"

"Why in God's name did you choose _him_ Sam?" Dean asked the empty air begrudgingly.

The _him_ huffed indignantly. "He didn't choose me honey… he just showed up. I'm the victim in all this."

Dean snorted, "With all the shit we deal with? You better hope not. Come on." Dean turned and walked with a new-found determination. He was a man on a mission.

"Where are we going?" the frail man daintily caught up, matching his pace with a graceful air.

"Back to where this all started."

"Oooh." the man said as if he'd just been let in on some grand conspiracy.

"What's your name anyways?" Dean asked as he pulled his keys out of his pocket, apparently the hour's worth of walking he'd done earlier had taken him in circles. He felt the common swell of pride at seeing his baby across the street.

"Calantha." The man revealed grandiloquently; his hands jazzed out before him.

Dean paused, and looked at his counterpart, his door half open. "Wha- what the hell is that?"

The other man's jazzed hands suddenly balled in excitement, "It's greek," he enthused, "it means _like a lovely blossom_," he finished with flare, eyes wide in anticipation.

Dean pushed his door closed again. "Flowers get stepped on." It was a lame threat and he knew it… this whole ordeal had thrown him off his game though.

Flakey dropped his hands and gave Dean a knowing look, "That is _so_ deep, and so _totally_ true." Dean bit down on his bottom lip… hard. "You know Dean I never would've pegged you as the philosophical type. Guess it just goes to show you can't judge us men by their covers right?" he winked, grabbing the handle of the passenger door and pulling.

"Stop." Dean demanded, the other man paused, door half open. "First of all Calzone, please do not ever again refer to us as being in the same category of men, okay? Secondly… there is no way in hell I'm letting you get in my car with that name."

"Wha-" he huffed, "Well why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous and I'm not letting you taint my car with your stupidity. What's your real name?" He demanded.

"That _is_ my real name. I had it legally changed. And it's Calantha, not Calzone." He flashed his pearly whites.

Dean took a deep breath. "Well now its Cal… got it?"

_Cal_ pouted his lips out and clicked his tongue with a roll of his eyes. "Whateverrr."

"I'm not kidding," Dean emphasized with a finger, "I hear one crazy-ass thing come out of your mouth and I will drop you off a bridge." With that Dean pulled his door back open and quickly slid in, mumbling something about dead queers and salt.

Cal rolled his eyes and did a double-take to his right with a frown. "What are _you_ laughing at?" he growled before sliding in him self and closing the door.

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

By: Maygin

**Chapter Three**

"So where are we headed?"

Dean grit his teeth together… the man did _not_ stop talking; and the gay, valley girl speech was really grating on his nerves. "Weren't you listening the first ten times I said it?"

"Okay well for starters you only mentioned it twice but you never said where exactly it was, and secondly… I can deal with the whole roguish, bad-ass, devil may care attitude you've got going on, but you have _got_ to see a professional about the whole anger management." Dean's nails pressed deep into the steering wheel. "And Sam agrees."

Dean glanced into his rear-view mirror, throwing a deadly glare into the back seat… _the traitor_. "Yeah well _Sam_ doesn't have any room to talk."

Cal turned and looked into the back seat as well, "Pissed about what?" Cal's head swiveled back to the driver. "What are you still pissed about?"

"Nothing." Dean stated flatly.

"Who's Doctor Ellicot?"

"Dude- Sam, do you mind?" Dean indignantly threw to the back seat.

Cal suddenly gasped, mouth and eyes widely gaping at the back seat, "You _shot_ your own _brother_?" His head swung back to the driver. "Why don't you want to talk about it Dean?"

"Damnit, Sam?" Dean actually turned around this time throwing an angry scowl into the back. "Do you think you could _not_ reveal all our problems to the gay man in the passenger seat!"

"Oh-ho," Cal laughed shifting in his seat, shaking his head, "you two have serious issues. But I can totally see why you wouldn't want to see a psychologist anymore… _gawd _you must be traumatized!"

"Look, can we not talk about this!" Dean was highly uncomfortable with this entire situation.

"Talking through problems is good Dean, it helps heal the wounds in our souls-"

"Alright- SHUT UP!" Dean threw another warning glance in the rear view mirror. "Both of you just the hell up or so help me I will drive us off the next bridge I see!"

"Technically your brother's already dead so-"

"SHUT UP!"

Cal huffed with a roll of his eyes and turned to the back seat with a knowing look mouthing, '_we'll talk'_.

Dean growled a few curses at whatever idiot thought it would be a good idea to stick his brother's spirit with twinkle toes here. He couldn't believe less than an hour ago he'd actually been dreading being alone. He'd give his left arm to have a little peace and quiet right about now. Okay… well maybe Cal's left arm. And maybe his right arm too.

He jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, feeling partially vindicated at the surprised squeal from the passenger whose arms shot out to hold onto something. He slammed on the brakes suddenly and once more the passenger let out a high pitched scream that was quite possibly more girly than most women he met. And in his line of work, he'd heard more than his share of screaming women.

"OH MY GAWD!" Cal put a hand to his chest. "Oh my gawd! You almost killed us! My life just flashed before my eyes."

Dean calmly looked to the passenger, "We're here." He pulled on his door handle and slid out.

Cal watched him shut his door with a little bit of fear. "Is he always like this?" he asked, looking to the back seat. He then shook his head, "I feel for you honey. That man needs some serious Prozac."

"CAL!"

Said passenger jumped at Dean's call, and quickly obeyed, exiting the car. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't get your panties all in a twist." He found the eldest Winchester at the back of the car, trunk open and… "Oh my gawd!" He gawked at the assortment of weapons secretly hidden in the back of the car. He reached in to pick up a stick that had a chain and deadly looking iron ball with spikes attached to it. Dean smacked his hand before he fingered it though. He snatched his hand back and threw a sour look at his offender.

"Do not touch." Dean ordered as if he were talking to a four year old.

Cal watched as Dean pulled a shotgun, a water bottle, a knife, a hand gun which he slid into the back of his jeans, and a book out of the truck, and then reached up to close it. "Wait," Dean paused looking at his counterpart. "Don't I get something?"

Dean reached back into the compartment, pulled out a white cloth and handed it to the blond man. Cal looked at the cloth with disdain. "You get two guns and a knife, and I get a _hankie_? I meant a weapon."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean slammed the trunk closed, "When that thing comes around a corner and sees you bawling into that hankie… it'll scare the hell outta him." Dean turned and headed towards the old, building that now looked like a four story building that had been through a war.

"Oh, ha- ha." Cal sneered. "You're going to be sorry when that thing eats me."

"Not likely."

"Dean," Cal caught up to him, "Dean, Sam says you should at least give me the holy water. Holy water?" the last was directed to the empty air on his right. "You mean people actually use holy water?"

Dean abruptly stopped. "Hey, Lucy- Dezi… do you think you two can focus here?"

Cal's eyes suddenly widened with a gasp, "Samuel Michael Winchester!"

Dean's forehead creased with curiosity. "What? What'd he say?"

Cal crossed his arms and refused to look at either brother, "I refuse to repeat such language."

"Whatever, look-" Dean, quite used to the verbal sparring he and his brother always got into, brushed it off easily, "I want you," He pointed to Cal, "to stay close behind me."

"Oooh, my pleasure sweetheart." Cal leered, sending an admiring look to the older brother's backside.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "And _you_," he pointed to his right; Cal reached over and pushed Dean's hand the other way. Dean pressed his lips together and swallowed down his pride, "_You_ watch my watch my back." He growled to the empty air, turned and headed for the open door-way.

Cal took his position behind him with fervor. "Sam wants to know what the hell you expect him to do in- what?" he looked behind them, "in his current state of non-existence?"

"I want you to zap that bastard's ass."

"He said he doesn't think it works like that."

"Well you better figure it out Sam, cuz PeeWee here isn't gonna be much help."

"Well maybe if I had something more than a hanker-chief…" Cal's head tilted to the side with a smirk, "You know you should register that ass as a lethal weapon cuz _mmm-mm_… you got it going _on _sugar!"

"Sorry dickead, this ass is for ladies only." He said distractedly as he stepped through the door and looked at their surroundings. He heard a sudden skitter on the floor above them. "All right, head's up."

"No need to innuendo _that_ one." Cal whispered to his friendly specter.

Dean rolled his eyes and headed towards the stairwell. There really wasn't much left of the building but the concrete foundations. Wooden planks and general rubble was strewn about, long sheets of plastic hung from the ceilings, and of course your common homeless trash pile here and there. He had to admit, some of the graffiti was pretty good.

"Are those boobs?" Cal whispered loudly, squinting at the wall decorations.

"Pay attention." Dean growled.

"Sorry."

"Shh!"

"Gawd you're pushy."

Dean stopped and glared purposefully at his counterpart. "Dude, shut- up!"

A silent pause filled the air. "Control freak." Came a mumbled reply.

"Sam!" Dean whirled around in anger. "Quit feeding him lines!"

"Quit yelling," Cal shushed with a hurried wave of his hand, "You'll give away our position."

"Our position?" Dean asked incredulously. "What are you in the army now?"

"Oh, don't I wish." Cal laughed haughtily. "I put in an application once, but the recruiter wouldn't even take it."

"Thank God."

A loud bang shot through the air, echoing off the abandoned walls, and once more it was eerily silent. Dean glanced down at his arm and noticed he once more had an _attachment_, he rolled his eyes and started moving slowly forward again. He quietly mumbled to the air around him, "You're lucky you're already dead Sam, cuz if you weren't I'd kill you for all this…" Dean paused as the air suddenly seemed to shift around them... as if the pressure had just dropped.

"…Sam?" Dean questioned.

"He said it wasn't him." Cal whispered, his grip tightening on the corporeal brother's arm. Dean's head swiveled around, as he stepped through the plastic hanging in front of the second floor doorway. "What kind of monster is this anyways?"

"It's a _monster._ What more do you need?" Dean moved to the left and started making their way through the different rooms, stepping over trash and rubble.

"Well are we talking a Harry-and-the-Henderson's-big-foot-type monster, or a Night-of-the-Living-Dead-I'm-gonna-suck-your-face-off-type monster? Turn here." He pulled on Dean's arm.

"What?" Dean looked through the doorway he indicated.

"Sam said so." He shrugged, still firmly attached to his favorite arm. They moved into the other room which connected to three more rooms.

"Eddie, ex-delivery boy."

It was Cal's turn to look confused. "What?"

"The zombie," Dean explained, "it's more like Eddie, the ex-delivery boy."

"Oh my gawd! _You've _seen Rocky Horror Picture Show?" Cal's voice sqeaked as he tried to contain his excitement.

"Actually _no_, Sam was watching it one night a few weeks back... you know, one of those nights he was _supposedly_ sleeping." Dean threw a sarcastic look behind them.

"Middle door. So we're talking a very scary individual who just wants to kill."

"Yup."

"And why are we here again?"

Dean sighed as he stepped through the middle door. "To kill _it_ before it kills anyone else."

"What if it kills _us_?"

"It won't."

"Well how do you know? It already killed Sam!" Cal screeched.

"Shh! Sam's not dead yet." A loud thump and scraping noise came through the doorway on their right.

"Ohmygawdohmygawdohmygawd." Cal's hand flew forward, bright, white hankie bravely warding off any monster. "I think it knows we're here." He whispered loudly.

"You know, there's a certain decibel point you reach when your whispering becomes kind of pointless."

"What is that, some elegant way of telling me to shut-up?"

"Yes."

"Well you're too late; Sam already said the exact same thing two minutes ago."

Dean gave him a screwy look, "Seriously?" Cal nodded sympathetically. "Damn." He lifted one of the plastic tarps, glancing behind it and recoiled quickly, "Aw geeze-" He backed up pulling Cal with him.

"What? What is it?"

"Nothing, look it's just," Dean pulled on the curious man's jacket, "you're better off not knowing."

"It's a dead body isn't it?" Cal's nose crinkled as he caught a wiff of the odor of rotting flesh.

"Yeah it's a dead body. Sam?" Dean glanced around the room, "Do you mind?"

Cal's head seemed to follow an invisible object across the room behind the tarp where the dead body lay. "Where's he going?"

"Check on the stiff, see what he can find out. He's got no sense of smell right now so it'll be easier on him." Dean explained.

Cal nodded and watched his friendly ghost's muted appearance behind the tarp. "So… what's the deal with him anyways?"

Dean frowned, "Who- Sam?"

"Yeah."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well he seems so… exhausted, I don't know. Like a lost little puppy or something."

Dean snorted, "A _lost little puppy_?" Dean shook his head holding down the laughter, "You are so flagrantly gay."

Cal's hands went to his hips. "And your point is?"

"Nothing." He pursed his lips trying not to smile, "Just do yourself a favor and don't ever tell him that to his face."

"You men are impossible." Cal sighed. "Seriously though, I've got a nose for these type of things, what's up with him?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Cal, the man is a ghost; his body is lying in a hospital room practically brain-dead and he's stuck with _you_ as his only link to the living… and you wanna know why he's looking a little stressed?"

Cal's shoulders slumped. "Well when you put it that way." He focused on their topic of discussion who was still bent over the rotting corpse.

"His girlfriend was killed several months back," came a quiet admission.

Cal turned his gaze upon the older brother whose eyes didn't leave the tarp across the room, "How?"

"Same thing that killed our mother… a demon."

"That's horrible." He shook his head sincerely.

Dean took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably, "Sam! Would you hurry it up?"

After a few moments of silence, Dean turned his head to his cohort with an expectant look. Cal shrugged and shook his head in response. Dean frowned and his eyes traveled back to the hanging plastic. "Sam? …can you still see him?"

"Yeah, he's just sitting there."

"Sam? You wanna talk to me here?"

"He's calling you." Cal hurridly shoved the eldest brother forward; if the whole having his own personal ghost and hunting down monsters hadn't scared him enough as is… having his ghost go suddenly silent on him really made him nervous. He pulled his hankie out again, his eyes nervously scanning the surrounding room.

Dean slowly walked forward, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his jacket before slipping behind the tarp. He quickly scanned the side room, before settling on the rotting corpse. "What'd you find?"

"Why?" Cal's voice called a few seconds later from behind the hanging plastic; obviously responding to the youngest Winchester's answer. "Alright, alright; you don't have to be so pushy."

"Cal!" Dean called impatiently.

"He says to look up."

"Up?" Dean whispered to the air around him. He hated these moments; when you _knew_ something was there you didn't want to see, but you _have_ to look. His eyes slowly lifted. About five feet above him was the concrete ceiling of the second floor. Normal. What wasn't normal was the huge black smear covering a good portion of it; as if it had been burned. "Fire?" he asked, his eyes still roaming the ceiling.

"Whatever you asked, he said yes to." Cal called again.

Dean's eyes picked up on the areas where the black streaked out, as if the fire had licked the outer edges before pulling back into the center. Dean's wary eyes fell to the air in front of him. "What are you thinking Sam?" he asked quietly.

"Um… can you guys come back out here please? I'm getting a little freaked out."

Dean slowly backed out of the connected room, his eyes still drawn to the mysteriously discolored ceiling.

"What were you doing in there?" Cal asked impatiently.

Dean took one last look at the body, turned, and froze. Behind Cal stood an eight foot monster of a man, scraggly black and grey hair and beard covering most of the sickly grey, scarred face and yellow eyes. Cal looked like a child compared to the bulging form behind him. The monster raised its huge club of a hand, a broken piece of wood grasped between its fingers.

"CAL! Get down!" Dean ordered. The other man's eyes had widened and he was already half way down when Dean screamed at him, he guessed his brother had called out a warning too. Before the monster could bring his blunt weapon down, Dean raised his own and let off two shots. The salt embedded itself into the deformed man's chest and he roared, staggering backwards. Dean slid his other gun from the back of his pants and pulled off a few more shots of silver this time. Finally, _Eddie_, _ex-delivery boy_ crumpled loudly to the floor, blood oozing from his fatal wounds. A high-pitched squealing filled the air, and it took Dean a moment to realize it was Cal… still rolling around on the floor covering his head.

"You alright?" Dean asked as he moved forward to make sure the monster was dead.

"No! I'm not alright! I was almost just killed ohmygawdohmygawd!"

"Would you get up?" Dean looked back at the hysterical blond man, "Knock it off, he's dead, you're fine."

Cal stumbled to his feet, and almost fell into the older Winchester. He grabbed firmly onto Dean's arm and pressed his face into his shoulder in relief. Dean cringed and tried to pull away. "Oh my gawd, I almost died! You saved my life! …is that Old Spice?" Dean shoved the sniffing man away.

"I am not beyond shooting you."

Cal looked for support from his other savior, "How is it you two are related- what's wrong? Sam?"

Dean's head swiveled around; alert once more. "What's going on?"

"Oh my gawd! Sam! Are you okay? Dean!"

"What!" Dean was at Cal's side, but he had no clue what to do. "What the hell's happening?"

"I don't know! He's writhing on the floor- he's screaming! Ohmygawd HELP HIM!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!" Dean growled helplessly. Nothing frustrated him more than feeling helpless and right now he was feeling pretty damn helpless. His brother, which he could neither, see, hear or feel was hurting in some way… but he was a spirit. It just didn't make sense.

Suddenly pieces of broken concrete and wooden planks began shifting. Dean dropped to the floor as a small chunk of concrete rocketed past his head and smashed into tiny pieces against the opposite wall.

"Oh my gawd, what's happening!" Cal's scream cut through the chaos.

"He's spiking." Dean whispered in sudden realization. He rolled over and looked to the area Cal was watching worriedly. "Sam!" He yelled above a board that snapped in half, each piece splintering in the air. "You're spiking! You need to calm down! Do you hear me!"

"He's what!" Cal covered his head as debris from an exploding piece of concrete fell on him.

"Sam!" Dean demanded. "Look at me!" He took a quick breath, never taking his eyes off the empty space in front of him. "Remember the time Dad left us home for an entire week? You were 9, and it was during the summer and we were staying in that broken down house." Dean was speaking quickly, trying to garner his brother's attention as plastic tarps rattled a whapped noisily against the walls. "You remember we were so bored, and there was nothing to do. And we found those paint cans in the basement. So we each took a couple cans and started painting the basement walls." He jerked his hand up to block a cascade of cement dust from another exploding rock. "I painted a huge AC/DC mural with guitars and cars and half-naked women and you-" a large board to their right split down the middle and exploded sending splinters every which way, "you painted an angel remember? It was the most god-awful painting of an angel I'd ever seen, but you had said it was how you pictured mom. And so I helped you put in some more details… fixed her up remember?" Dean's voice came through a bit more clearer as ever so slowly the storm and chaos around them began to die down. "And then we stopped and just looked at her, and you turned around and looked at my painting and then back at mom. And you made me paint some clothes on the naked women so mom wouldn't have to stare at it all day…" The freak storm ended. Dean swallowed, and took a few deep breaths, his eyes finally looking down to the floor in relief and more than a little embarrassed.

Cal sat silently by, eyes wide at the open display he'd just witnessed. He realized immediately that he'd just been let in on a very private moment in the lives of the Winchester's. He pursed his lips and tried very hard not to let the swell of emotions from the past day suddenly burst forth. The brothers wouldn't appreciate that.

"Cal?" Dean asked warily, his voice slightly shaken.

"He's okay, he just looks weak." His face suddenly went slack.

Dean's stomach twisted, "What?"

"He's gone." Cal's head shot up, searching the remaining Winchester's face. "He just disappeared!"

Dean's lips worked, trying to find words; his eyes roaming the area his brother had supposedly been.

"Where did he go?" Cal's voice was becoming near hysterical again. "What are we going to do!"

Dean pushed himself up off the floor. He scanned the room, swallowing the dry lump that had formed in his throat. His voice came as barely a whisper. "I don't know."

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary:** "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Sidenote:** Hey guys, thank you sooo much for the reviews! That's awesome! I love ALL reviews, even if you feel like you've got nothing intelligent to add… intelligence is for dumb people… HA!... okay no. Moving on- some people are fearing that this is a death fic… Fear not friends! I am physically incapable of writing a death fic, I've been conditioned with the 'happily ever after' syndrome; which means one day I shall rule the galaxy because that will make me happy.

**CHAPTER 4**

The humming of the engine was a welcome comfort from the dead silence that had fallen over them. The sense of loss and uncertainty was overly-oppressive and hung heavy in their thoughts. Dean numbly pushed the accelerator slowly down as the light turned green.

Where was Sam? What if by killing the monster he'd somehow inadvertently killed his little brother? Had he lost him for good this time? These were the thoughts that were assaulting him. He ran a hand over his face and head in frustration and helplessness… he hated this _not knowing _crap. He slumped in his seat allowing the vibrations from the car to overwhelm his thoughts.

"Earlier…" Cal hesitated, his voice had been mildly quiet, especially for him, but it had sliced through the depressing silence like a whip cracking in an empty theater. "Earlier you mentioned spiking…" his lips moved, searching for the right words.

Dean spared him the effort, not in the mood to see the man squirm. "It's a theory." He answered quietly. "Dad found it a long time ago." Dean shifted in his seat. "When for whatever reason a spirit becomes attached to this world, they go through a process called spiking. The energy around them fluctuates. You know how people that almost die say they saw their life flash before their eyes?" he continued at Cal's nod, almost grateful for the distracting conversation. "Well apparently peoples soul's go through this process of release… life flashes… helps them detach their spirits from their body and the world… apparently." He paused, shaking his head; he hated this theoretical crap too. It was always Sam's arena, not his.

"So…" Cal's eyes focused on the passing cars, "ghosts are spirits that got jipped?"

"More or less. We always figured some kind of emotional trauma or negative energy in the person before their death interrupted the process somehow, causing their spirit to anchor."

"But _Sam's_ not dead." Cal reasoned.

Dean took a deep breath, "Yeah." God, he wanted more than anything for that to be true.

"So the spiking is what?"

Dean tilted his head, allowing the sun to warm his cold, dead thoughts. "Spirits were never meant to exist on our plane."

"So the energy around them spikes?" Cal stated, beginning to catch on.

"Yeah," Dean took another deep breath, "The theory goes; every time they spike, the negative energy cancels out the positive until all that's left is a very pissed off spirit."

Cal was silent for a few moments, processing. "They lose everything good about them until there's nothing but- what, anger?"

"Typically it's focused on one event or something that happened in their life."

"And that's why you told him that memory with the paint? To focus Sam on the positive? Help him remember?"

Dean shrugged, "Sam actually came up with that part of the theory a long time ago." Cal nodded, at least now he understood _some_ of the last twelve hours of his life. Dean it seemed wasn't finished though, "He was like, _seven_." He shook his head a sad smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, "Even then he was a brilliant little kid. Always comin up with smart shit and stuff. Dad and I would probably've been dead a long time ago if it wasn't for him and his... deduction skills." He swallowed and cleared his throat suddenly. What was _wrong_ with him?

Cal's eyes hadn't left the older brother beside him. He did a quick sweep with his fingers, making sure it was non-chalant… that last thing he wanted was to freak Dean out because he was tearing up. His own chest swelled with emotions. "So where are we going?"

Dean swallowed down that familiar lump once more and shook his head, his eyes hypnotized by the passing yellow lines on the left. He just didn't want to think anymore. He was emotionally drained and he was right back where he started… without Sam.

"Why don't we go see your brother." Cal stated with finality.

Dean's head shot around, searching his passengers face.

"At the hospital," the blond man clarified.

Dean felt that lump plunge in his chest again, "I already told you I can't."

"I have a friend who works at Saint Lukes. I can get you in."

Dean stared at Cal again. He felt his eyes burn… why the hell was this guy helping him anyways? All he'd done since he'd first stepped into his line of site was degrade him. His jaw clamped down tightly and he took another deep breath.

Cal stared right on back, a look of simple understanding on his face. "Let's go see Sam."

Dean turned back to the windshield, his eyes picking up the street sign on their left. He wanted to see his brother, more than anything… but at the same time, there was a piece of him that dreaded it. Dreaded it because he knew he'd made a promise… a promise he didn't want to fulfill. He licked his lips, but finally gave an affirmative nod. "Let's go see Sam."

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By:** Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Authors Dumb Note**: I think I've captured a Supernatural bug or something… anytime I see a little brother and a big brother now I just can't help but think of Dean and Sam. I was watching Goonies the other night and couldn't help but see Bren as Dean and Mikey as Sam. Got a good laugh out of it. Has anyone else had this problem?

**CHAPTER 5**

"This is not a good idea." Dean stated, at the back, emergency exit of the hospital, his eyes roaming the buildings around them.

Cal stopped knocking and turned to his impatient counterpart with a sigh. "Look," he said as if he couldn't believe he was explaining this _again_, "Jamie is a very good friend of mine. I trust him like I trust my eyeliner."

"Well that's great Cal. I feel much better about this."

Cal ignored him and went back to knocking loudly on the door. It swung open suddenly and there standing before them was a six foot five, bald, two-hundred and eighty-five muscle-building black man with a scowl on his face.

"Holy hell," slipped inadvertently from the eldest Winchester's lips with awe. The man in front of them could've rivaled _Eddie the ex-ex delivery boy_… only much cleaner looking, but still an intimidating Greek God of a man.

The Gladiator glared first at Dean and then at Cal who was smiling brightly. Suddenly the man's demeanor went from '_kill em all and let… well- just kill em all_' to '_welcome to my sleep over girl talk party_'. A huge, bright-white smile transformed on the man's face and he batted his eyes, his hips swinging to the side, and his arms coming in close to his chest, hands delicately bent downwards.

"Calantha!" his surprisingly feminine voice rang out loudly.

"Jamie darling!"

And then they were hugging, butts out. Dean's eyes were huge… this was definitely not what he had expected of _Jamie_.

"Jamie, this is Dean." Cal introduced.

Dean braced himself, frightened the mountain of a… _man_ was going to try and hug him too. Instead Jamie held his large hand out delicately and smirked, giving Dean a once-over with his eyes and obviously pleased.

"Pleased to meet you honey."

Dean could only nod in return. His vocal cords had yet to detach from the back of his throat after almost swallowing them in shock. Cal rolled his eyes at him.

"Don't bother, he's straight." Cal advised his friend.

"Now that is a true shame. Well come on in." Jamie hurriedly ushered the two men inside and started cat-walking his large frame down the long, empty hallway. "I'm sorry to hear about your brother sweetie, really I am. Such a young little guy he is. I've said a prayer for him every morning before my shift."

Dean tried not to let the oddity of this entire encounter show on his face. He shoved his hands into his pockets and followed behind the two men… more than a little uncomfortable. "Thanks, um…" he licked his lips, "Sam would appreciate that."

Jamie pursed his lips unhappily, shaking his head, "It just ain't right what those government and news-folk are doing. The media I can keep out, but them suits… they're the real trouble-makers." Cal hummed his agreement, also pursing his lips with distaste.

"Cops?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Oh no; they were there at first, but then the FBI showed up and took over the investigations. They still monitor the hospital procedures and show up once in a while, but overall we're mostly just fighting off the media." Jamie's face went cold and suddenly his voice was a low baritone. "Arrogant sons-of-bitches."

Dean made a face… man these guys were hard to figure out. Guys… girls… whatever they wanted to consider themselves. He looked down at the bleached tiles as they passed beneath his feet, his thoughts drowning out the voices of his _companions_. He wasn't used to this… following others leads. He wasn't used to not feeling confident in the outcome. He wasn't used to being around so much femininity without… well… certain feminine features involved.

He wasn't used to being alone; though his persona belied otherwise, he truly didn't know if he could do what the Winchester's did for a living on his own. Hell, the first 3 hours after he was _supposedly_ on his own he'd walked around like a zombie, wondering, _once again_, how he was going to survive on his own. Granted, he'd been in a right awful state of grieving and helplessness… but… yeah, there was no way in hell he could do this on his own. There was even a very, _VERY_ minuscule part of him that was grateful for his currently very gay company… sort of.

A small smirk pulled at his lips as a memory suddenly popped into his head. A memory of a 15 year old Sammy who had just started his freshman year; and a very unfortunate encounter with one, Laura Winters. He could laugh at it now; he had laughed at it then too, until… well, he'd stopped laughing at that point. Dean suddenly wondered how much Sam actually looked back on the _good_ times; times when they weren't hunting, or thinking about the victims they couldn't save. Lately, it seemed his little brother was focusing more and more on what they'd lost rather than some of the good things they'd gained in life.

Dean's mind started filling with memories of better times; times when he and his father and brother had laughed together… _actually laughed_, not just the sarcastic snort here and there, but good, heart-felt laughter; times when he and his brother had stayed up past bedtime to make fun of the guests on Jerry Springer; times when they'd gone grocery shopping together and dueled to see who could get the most women to smile at them; the endless word games and other mindless time spent driving cross country. The memories were there... so why was it so hard for Dean to talk about them? It wasn't like visiting old times was initiating the 'chick-flick' moments he hated. So what was it? His stomach twisted sickly as the abrupt fear at the possibility that he'd never get the chance to experience new good memories with his little bro suddenly occurred to him.

"Dean!"

The voice broke through Dean's wall of thought like a wrecking ball. His head shot up looking at the two men who were looking at _him_ warily. "What?"

"Honey you don't look so good." Jamie pursed his lips with worry, a large, delicate hand pointed in his direction. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

It was then that Dean noticed they had stopped in front of a door. He looked around them and realized they were in a deserted wing of the hospital now; it was quiet. His eyes went slowly back to the door; and suddenly he was finding it a little difficult to breath. He was pretty sure he had nodded in response because Cal and Jamie were suddenly pushing the door open for him. He walked numbly through, leaving his two companions behind the door they closed quietly after him. He swallowed the lump and took another step forward, stepping out of the small corridor between the door and the actual room.

"Oh god." He stumbled back into the corridor suddenly sick, fist to mouth as he caught a glimpse of the latest news story lying on the only bed in the room… surrounded by machines, wires and IV's attached all over; a tube shoved down the patients throat, forcing oxygen into the unresponsive body; eye-lids taped shut. Dean fought down the panic and despair. This wasn't him… he'd never let this kind of stuff get to him before, he sure as hell wasn't going to let it effect him now. Not now. He forced a deep, resolved breath in and turned back to the open room.

His steps were silent; as if the mere sound of them could cause the machinery keeping his brother alive to suddenly stop.

And then he was there; standing at the side of the bed; white-knuckled fingers gripping the metal railings. His head had automatically shifted down, staring at the white sheets; but slowly, he forced his eyes to the left… to the face of one he just couldn't bear to lose.

His eyes burned and the muscles in his jaw shifted in protest of the crushing pressure he was administering, trying to hold it in. His stoic expression didn't change as he just stared. "Hey Sammy." His voice was quietly horse; strained. He swallowed a few more times, trying not to hear the sound of the droning life support. He released one hand from the cold railing, and rested hesitant fingers on the lifeless arm lying atop the crisp sheets. "You're not going to believe the day I've had." His eyes roamed the bleached walls. "I blame you entirely for sticking me with those two fairies outside." He gave a short laugh, but found himself quickly swallowing down another lump. And then it came… a single tear. It trailed down his cheek; this undiscovered land, calling its friends along. "God look at you." Came a choked whisper.

Dean's face suddenly twisted and he knew he couldn't stop it anymore. He slumped down into the seat sitting close by and buried his head into the limp arm beneath him. It poured from him, and he couldn't stop it. He didn't _want_ to anymore; he'd stepped beyond his emotional line and now wanted nothing more than to expel that horrible hurricane flooding his inner cavities. And so he wept.

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Sidenote**: If you guys ever don't understand something, please let me know! Sometimes my thoughts don't always transfer to paper very well. And for those of you (Kaewi ;) wondering how the boys landed themselves in this position in the first place, don't worry, I will explain that.

**CHAPTER 6**

The knock on the door was so quiet he would've missed it had he not been trying to pick up on any sound _other_ than the constant beeping and humming of the instruments surrounding him and his brother. That didn't stop him from ignoring it completely though.

Cal ever-so-quietly opened the door and slipped inside, closing it just as quietly. He peeked around the corner and saw the two Winchesters. Dean was just sitting there, leaning against the bed, his back to him, one elbow resting next to the younger brother's arm, with his head propped up. He crept around to the other side of the bed, and was slightly startled to see the elder brother was awake; eyes bloodshot and completely still, as if numbness had taken over and simply breathing was all he could bear at the moment.

"Hey." Cal whispered sympathetically as he took a good look at his specter's true form.

Dean's expression didn't change; his eyes glanced slightly to the right and then back; a show of acknowledgement.

Cal gave a small nod in acceptance before reaching down and taking the lifeless hand below into his own. "Jamie's assigning himself and another guy he trusts as the managing nurses to- um… to Sam. You know, so the media and suits won't get wind of some mysterious guests being here and all." He could feel two green orbs suddenly shift his way. He gave a small shake of his head and looked down at the hand in his. "I haven't seen him." The tired green eyes blinked slowly in acceptance before shifting back to the loved one, still lifeless. "That doesn't mean he's not still out there," Cal reasoned softly, "fighting to get back."

Cal sighed quietly for once, not really expecting a reaction from the elder brother. He grinned softly, "It seems Sam's created quite a stir. The hospital is getting bags of mail addressed to one Samuel Winchester. There's so much of it in fact, they've even had to assign a nurse to open them all." His grin suddenly shifted into a smirk. "Apparently, the female to male ratio of cards and letters coming in are 99 to 1." Dean's eyes softened ever-so-slightly. "There's even protester's outside as we speak. They all want Sam to live." Cal glanced hesitantly at the stoic man across the bed. "He's got a lot of people fighting for his survival."

He gently squeezed the hand in his, grateful to finally be able to connect in some form other than super-naturally. "Just thought you should know." He finished quietly, the humming of the life support filling the void once more.

"Thank you."

Cal was almost certain his ears had misheard the oxygen machine's repetitive release of air; but after a pause, he knew it had been the quiet whisper of a man trying to reach for some small semblance of hope… and failing miserably. Cal had quickly picked up on the Winchester brother's way of dealing with emotions; and he knew he had to respect that… even if it _was_ stupid. He released the younger man's hand, kissed his own finger and pressed it gently to the lifeless patient's cheek bone. He then found a comfortable, reclining chair in the far corner of the room and took up residence. He may respect the Winchester's way of dealing with feelings, but there was no way in hell he was leaving the moron's to face it alone… even if he _was_ an un-wanted presence.

He picked up a stack of opened cards that were sitting on the window sill and began reading.

Dean ran his head under the freezing cold stream of water pouring out of the faucet. He needed it… something to shock him out of the numb state he had fallen into; a little bit of 'the jazz' in his veins. He grabbed a towel from the shelf of the small bathroom and rubbed his hair down, causing soft spikes to go every which way when he was done. He spit out the mouthwash that had surprisingly showed up among a few other commodities.

He had to admit, for a hospital room, it wasn't too bad for visitors; the bathroom even had a shower. Dean guessed this wing of the hospital was meant for long-term patients so it was set to better service the long-term visitors that would no doubt follow. He had grabbed a coffee from the machine right outside the room and was ready to undo any hard work the mouthwash had just accomplished. He had really only used it to help himself feel clean, a little more human again.

He quietly opened the door and slipped into the room again, heading toward his assigned chair next to the bed. Nothing had changed in the last six hours; other than a few visits from Jamie, some really horrific late night television programs and the fact that Cal was now dead asleep in the corner of the room. Instead of sliding into his chair, he leaned his elbows on the bed rail, near his brother's side, and loosely clasped his hands together.

"Okay, I'm done being a drama queen… you can wake up now." He said quietly, rubbing his stubbly cheek self-consciously. "I think I've been spending too much time with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell… losing my edge." He sucked his bottom lip in and started gnawing on it, carefully watching for any sign of life. He had decided sometime in the last hour that he was going to hold fast to hope, however fleeting it seemed at this point. He wasn't going to give up, it just wasn't in his nature… _he was a Winchester for cryin out loud_! He reached a hand out and ran his fingers through the limp, dark strands of hair that was a constant topic of discussion between he and his brother… okay maybe not discussion so much as one-sided argument. He threw a quick glance to the corner of the room, making sure this was still a private discussion.

"Hey, you remember Laura Winters?" he asked with a small grin. He was sure had his brother been awake he would've answered with a glare that meant he didn't want to talk about it. Dean snorted, "I will never forget that man. The look on that guys face when you…" his eyes roamed, looking for the right words, "well, you know." He ran a hand over his face… this was a bit harder than he thought. But he knew if he couldn't do it when his brother was completely unresponsive, how the hell was he going to do it when he _was_ responsive? He shoved the awkward fear aside, he was determined his brother needed this, ghost or not. This was simply something his little brother was unconsciously screaming for, so big brother was going to provide.

"I uh-" he cleared his throat. "I never told you this, but um… that painting of mom we did in the basement? You remember?" He looked down at the steady rise and fall of the sheets. "Yeah well… see Dad sort of found out about it." Dean chewed at his lip, clearly uncomfortable. "It was too much… for him. He uh," Dean swallowed, "he just wasn't ready to… face it yet." His head tilted. "Still hasn't I guess. Point is," he took a deep breath and glanced at the lifeless face, "he kinda freaked out. You were um… you were working on some school thing over at another kids house." _God this was difficult_.

"Dad just looked at it for a few minutes and then… well, he yelled a lot," Dean snorted, a grin pulling at his mouth. If there was one thing John Winchester could be faulted for it was that when he got mad, he yelled. Dean and Sam started carrying ear plugs in their pockets as a personal joke between the two; anytime one of them got into trouble, they'd stand behind their screaming father making a big show of putting them to use. They never really had a problem with their Father's choice of anger management… it could've been a lot worse.

"I thought he was gonna throw some paint over it or some thinner or something… instead he just locked the basement door and made me swear never to open it. Something about having to move on or something else as equally stupid. Anyways, I told him I painted it and that you didn't know anything about it so he said to just make sure you never went down there either." His voice had quickened, a little self-conscious, not liking that he sounded like he was patting himself on the back.

Dead paused, mouth half open. His eyes trailed down his brother's face. "I know you don't think I knew, but um… I heard you every night you went down there. At first I thought you were just having more nightmares and getting something to drink from the kitchen."

Dean's hand hovered above the patient's chest… his palm scarcely touching the thin hospital gown as it rose to meet, and falling once more, and again, and again… "So I followed you one night." He said as if stating an interesting fact, his gaze going back to the eyelids taped-closed. "Realized you were going into the basement." He shrugged one shoulder, "I don't know why, I guess you needed it. So when Dad made his _demands_…" Dean's head shook, a faraway look in his eye, "I don't know, I just- I knew whatever it was you were doing down there… you needed it." He found himself matching the timed breathing of the machine, the sound almost deafening in his ears. "So I stole the key from Dad's room one day, had a copy made and unlocked it night after night. In the morning I re-locked it."

Dean's piercing eyes stared. "Dad never caught on. And the reason I'm telling you this… I'm not looking for some dumb-ass big brother award or anything," he reasoned. "I just um… I want you to realize that uh…" Dean gave a small nod, swallowing hard, "That I never stopped unlocking doors for you Sammy… I don't know how to." Dean's jaw clenched as he stared hard, keeping the unwelcome rain at bay. "And maybe I uh… maybe I don't want to."

Dean sniffed and rested a hand on the un-responsive man's arm. "So wherever you are, whatever it is that you're doing? Or fighting? Just… hold onto that okay? Cuz there is no way in hell I'm repeating all that again." He finished with his characteristic flat sarcasm. "And if you ever bring it up I will kick your ass."

Dean shifted the sheets around the body once more and then leaned back in his chair, settling in again. "I still owe you for Mr. Churbie."

TBC…

NOTE: The next chapter is coming tomorrow! It's been like a week since I last updated, I figured you all deserved it! Thanks for all the reviews guys! This is awesome!


	7. Chapter 7

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Hello**: This is turning out a bit more angsty than I'd originally planned. However I think you guys are okay with that… or at least I'm assuming you are. Keep the reviews coming! They're the only thing keeping me from murdering some of my co-workers during the day.

**CHAPTER 7**

"Ugh." Dean's eyebrow lifted and his gaze shifted to the currently moaning occupant in the corner of the room. "Who the hell came up with these chairs?" Cal whined loudly as he carefully stretched his back out.

Dean sniffed, his cheek resting bored in his hand. "No one asked you to stay."

"Oh come on!" Cal looked more annoyed than insulted. "I mean seriously, what idiot thought these chairs were a good idea?"

"Jamie?"

"Now see, you wouldn't be saying that if you'd ever seen his apartment." Cal stood up and whined as he dramatically bent over, placing a hand on his aching back.

"Well let's just hope it never comes to that."

"Oh Dean… what that man can do with a color palate… mm-mm."

"No kiddin'."

Cal stood up straight finally with a sigh, ready to face a new day. "So what happened while I was out?"

Dean shifted in his chair, "Oh well Sam woke up so we decided to take a little walk around the wing- you know, get some coffee… some danishes," he gave a tilt of his head, "but then the doc showed up and made him go back to bed so…" He finished off pressing his lips together innocently.

Cal stared at him, his morning cheer vanished. "You're hilarious."

"Alright so I made up the part about the danishes."

"You know, you're gonna go to hell one day."

Dean almost chuckled at how much the delicate looking man sounded like a fearless, church-going grandmother… not that he knew any. "I'd almost prefer it right now over this."

Cal knew he wasn't talking about their conversation. "Is there still some coffee out there?" he asked already making his way towards the door.

"It's old."

"I'll make a new pot."

Dean heard the door close, and found the room quiet once more. Sometime in the night he'd suddenly tuned out the droning sounds of the life-support systems. He stared at the half-closed shades over the window; light was pouring through. He could just imagine the amount of_ life_ outside that single pane of glass. He heard the door behind him open again.

"Jamie is such a darling." Cal swayed elaborately back into the room, picking up the blanket he had kicked off and began tidying up. "He brought us some Ethiopia Sidamo coffee blend from Starbucks before leaving his shift."

"That Jamie… what a sweet-heart." Dean joined in.

"Don't knock it till you try it." He picked up the cards he'd started reading last night and started strategically placing them around the room.

Dean gestured impatiently, "Do I get any?" he asked, noticing the serious lack of coffee.

"This is a special _blend_ Dean, it takes time to brew." Cal explained as if to a three-year old.

Dean's eyebrows raised. "He brought you a barista?"

Cal paused, a sly smirk on his lips, "Jamie and I have a special relationship."

Dean's hand flew up. "Just- stop… right there. Way more than I need."

Cal shrugged and placed a pink, lacey card on top of the life monitor. "I'm surprised you even know what a barista is."

"Yeah well Sam turned into a bit of a coffee dork at college."

"Ironic."

"How's that?" Dean asked disinterestedly.

Cal gave a small shrug as he hung a particularly overly-glittered card on the railing at the edge of the bed. "Well that just happens to be where we met."

Dean frowned in confusion. "Who?"

"Sam and me."

"You mean after…"

"Yeah." He started flipping through the stack looking for nicely decorated ones. "When he realized I could see him."

"So Sam turns into a ghost and the first thing he does is go to Starbucks?" Dean stated, clearly revealing how ridiculous he found that… and yet, so Sam.

Cal did his patented sigh and roll of eyes, "No silly. He was looking for _you_. He just happened to be passing by there and I almost ran into him as I came out."

"So what made you believe him?"

"Are you kidding me? Who can say no to a face like that!" he gestured ornately.

Dean rested his cheek on his fist, looking very bored.

Cal's shoulders slumped, "Okay so maybe some lady walked right through him and I freaked out a little."

"A little?" Dean's voice was flat.

"Hey, I'm gay. I'm supposed to exist with flare." He held up a neon orange and pink card with a clown on the front. Dean grimaced. Cal nodded in agreement and tossed the card into the trashcan.

"I'm surprised you didn't flare yourself into a straight jacket."

"Yeah well," Cal said sulkily, "Sam has a very calming affect on people."

"Now _that_ I believe."

Cal flipped open another card near the bottom of the stack and suddenly his eyes widened. "Oh my gawd!"

"What?" Dean asked warily.

"This woman included a naked picture of herself!"

Dean sat a little straighter in his chair, a curious grin on his face. "Really?"

Cal held the picture up for him to see, "She's 84!"

Dean immediately looked away, all interest lost and feeling quite dirty.

"What has this society come to?" Cal mumbled, pulling out a light blue card and placing it on the bed table.

"So how did you find me? I mean, St. Louis isn't exactly a small town."

"Oh Sam knew exactly where to go. He said it was your right leg." Cal started reading a piece of note-book paper someone had included in their card.

Dean blinked widely, "Excuse me?"

Cal looked up, balling the note and tossing it in the trash. "You're right leg. He said it was slightly shorter than the left. So whenever you're just wondering around, not paying attention you tend to go right." Dean's jaw dropped and he stared incredulously. "He figured you wouldn't be in a very alert state of mind after… you know. So we just kept heading right in certain areas and ended up near the park." He shrugged. "And then he spotted you."

Dean stared at him in shock a moment more before suddenly lifting both legs and measuring them visually.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of you know. Actually most people have one leg that's shorter than the other, we just don't notice it." He informed.

"Did you notice it?" he asked worriedly.

"Oh hell no honey," Cal chuckled, "but I also haven't been following your ass around for the last 20 years." Dean looked down at his feet again, just to make sure. Cal's head tilted to the side a grin on his face. "Not that I wouldn't mind following your-"

"Coffee." Dean demanded loudly.

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Hello**: Here is a special treat; three chapters in TWO… er- THREE DAYS! Some of you could probably care less, however for those of you who actually like this, viola! A few of you may recognize the reference to Artificial Exemplar… sorry, I couldn't help it; Mr. Churbie simply had to make an appearance, forgive me ;) Kaewi, I know I said I'd get this out yesterday, sorry… things came up, but here you go :) -- Repentive smile.

**CHAPTER 8**

Cal picked up one mug, filled it and then took a good long whiff of it. He let out a grateful sigh before picking up another mug and filling it to the rim. He glanced down towards the end of the hallway and could see nurses and patients bustling about through the small windows on the secured doors to their wing. He turned and pushed the room door open with his elbow and shut it with his butt while taking a careful sip of the brew.

"AAHH!" Cal cried out, spilling the coffee all over and startling Dean out of his chair. Only his feet got tangled up in the chair legs and he fell backwards, head over heel.

"What the- _fuck_!" Dean yelled angrily as he quickly gathered his composure and realized nothing was attacking the blond man. "What the hell's the matter with you!"

"You scared the _shit_ out of me!" Cal gasped, trying to slow his speeding heart.

Dean gave him a dubious look. "I wasn't _doing _anything!"

Cal set the coffee mugs down on the dresser and put a hand to his chest, still shaken. "Not you."

Dean's angry expression died instantly and his gaze whipped around the room in hope. "Sam?"

"By the window." Cal gestured with his free hand.

Dean gripped the bed railings, "Is he alright?" he asked anxiously.

Cal looked up from his coffee-soiled pants, across the room. "Well you don't look fine. You look almost worse than your brain-dead body which isn't saying much-"

"Where the hell was- where the hell have you been? What happened?" Dean cut in. Both _living_ occupants quieted as they listened; one listening to Winchester ala Spirit, and the other to the medical instruments singing their melancholy ballad. Dean threw an expectant look Cal's way. Dean wasn't exactly a patient man to begin with, and after having sat all night in the same chair doing nothing, he was ready to let some of his pent up energy out. Standing here, waiting in silence was not exactly what he had in mind. Cal, for his part was squinting and looking as if he was having a brain aneurism. Dean glanced at his watch.

Finally Cal turned to him, taking in a deep breath. "He said, I don't know," he exhaled.

Dean blinked. "It took him two minutes to say 'I don't know'?"

"Okay honestly? I forgot."

Dean frowned in frustration. "What do you mean you forgot? He just told you!"

"Alright!" Cal threw both hands up in defense. "Look, it's bad enough I have to try and translate between the two of you all the time, but when you start doing the whole _Winchester In Stereo_ deal?... saying the same things at the same time?... its really irritating." Dean gripped the railing again, hard. After a moment of berated silence, Cal flipped his hair back and looked towards the younger brother… ghosted version that is. "Okay, tell me again, a little slower this time." he said with a slightly accusing tone. The room became quiet again except for the occasional 'uh-huh' and 'wow' coming from the translator.

"Okay the shortened version is after you killed that horrible creature yesterday afternoon he was transported or something to a room…" he shook as his head suddenly, "a black room, sorry." The last was said to the air on his right.

"A black room?"

"Yeah, it was completely dark and only just big enough for him to stand in." He was looking to his right still, nodding his head, as if he was being fed the information as he spoke. "He said it was hot and he thought he could hear something outside of the room."

Dean's eyebrows raised in question, "And that was what?"

"He doesn't know… it was just always there in the background."

Dean looked down at his hands gripping the rail as his mind began processing these newest facts. Apparently they had just crossed over into the twilight zone. And that was saying a lot considering his current occupation. He shrugged one shoulder, "So maybe that's where spirits go after they spike," he hypothesized, waiting for a response.

"Spiked," Cal explained to his specter, "As in your little temper tantrum before your great disappearing act?" Dean's brow quirked in confusion at his brother needing to be reminded of the theory; some of which _he_ came up with. Cal also looked confused as he turned to the eldest Winchester. "He says he doesn't know what we're talking about."

Dean warily looked at the empty space. "What's the last thing you remember Sam?"

Cal listened and repeated, "You shooting _Eddie _and then the room thing."

Dean took a deep breath, "Well it looks like the theory on spiking is no longer a theory." He said casually. "You almost took Cal's head off with a brick."

"Theory on what?" Cal asked.

"The theory I told you about in the car." Dean said impatiently.

"Hey, I'm just repeating what Sam's saying." Cal held his hands up defensively.

Dean glanced back and forth between the empty air and Cal. "You don't remember the theory?" he asked his ghosted brother. "Negative energy… things exploding… process of becoming a bad ass poltergeist?" he listed, looking for some kind of familiarity. Cal shook his head in response. Dean sighed, "I guess our little story-time didn't help like we thought it would."

"I'll tell you later." Cal whispered to his right.

Dean pretended not to hear. He still felt a little awkward about that whole scene; it was just a bit too personal for him, and it should never have happened in front of a stranger. Actually a lot of things shouldn't have happened in front of _this_ stranger, but they had… and Dean had yet to figure out why the heck he was sticking around for more. Other than his good looks of course… okay that and the man technically had a spirit attached to him. He ran a tired hand over his face and rubbed hard at his eyes.

"Alright, spiking 101," Dean finally announced, as if letting his class know they should be taking notes, "Person dies, but due to some heavy emotional stress or event the spirit becomes anchored to our plane because the process of release has somehow been interrupted." He gave a bored shrug, explaining the theory like he was an old teacher that had explained this lesson a hundred times over. "Aaaand since spirits were never meant to exist on our plane, their energy levels conflict with the natural energy flow of the world around us. Their energy spikes, they go out of control, a little crazy… chaos happens. After each spike the ghost looses a piece of themselves and so on and so on… until all that's left is the strongest memory or emotion which is usually what anchored them here in the first place; and it's usually bad."

"Which makes for one helluva bad ass poltergeist!" Cal finished with the enthusiastic flare of Vanna White after inhaling 50 pixie sticks; pumping his fist in the air. He quickly lost his excitement at being able to contribute for once as both brothers threw him an annoyed look. "Sorry," he said contritely.

Dean sighed. "Does that sound at all vaguely familiar?" he asked the wall with jaded hope lacing his tone. He waited patiently again for a response… he was doing that a lot lately; always waiting and never getting the response he was hoping for.

"It's okay." Cal consoled the confused, invisible brother. He nodded his head. "It happened in the building you were brain-deaded in."

"Brain-deaded?"

Cal ignored the older brother's mocking inquiry, his full attention on attending the younger one who was looking a little distressed at the idea that he was loosing memories, pieces of himself… for all intentions becoming that which he hunted for a living. "Dean had just pulled his Dirty Harry act and totally annihilated that zombified creepy goliath." His voice started getting more excited as he switched back into story-telling mode. "Then you started spiking, or whatever. Things stared blowing up and flying all over the place, it was like being inside a torna-"

"I think he gets the point." Dean cut him off.

"Oh no honey, you didn't hurt us." Cal assured. "Well… I mean I got this huuuge splinter in my finger but-"

"Sam, before you went nuts you were checking out the corpse remember?" Dean asked, getting back on track.

"He remembers." Cal held up his damaged finger with an Elmo band-aid fastly secured. 'HUGE' he mouthed to his right.

"Okay, do you remember the ceiling, with the black smear on it?"

"What black smear?" Cal inquired, suddenly curious.

"Just-" Dean held up an impatient hand to the man. "Sam?" he asked, looking back to the wall.

Cal pouted his lips in annoyance, but relayed the message none-the-less. "Yeah he remembers."

Dean nodded, grateful for the small break. "You thought that was significant… you mind filling me in here?"

"He says it started out as an after-thought, but after hearing about the spiking deal just now, it makes a little more sense."

"What does?"

"The thing that killed mo- your mother, and Jessica- who's Jessica?" Cal interrupted his own explanation, but suddenly waived his hands in the air, signifying '_later_'. "Anyways, he thinks it might've been there the night you guys first went after Eddie… or whatever we're calling him."

Dean frowned in surprise. "What?" he gave a half-hearted laugh. "Because it looked like fire had burned the ceiling?" He asked in disbelief, all the while swallowing down the small puddle of fear that had suddenly appeared in his gut. "Come on Sam… that's a little obscure, even for you."

"He says to hear him out. The thing that killed your mom and Jessica; both deaths happened over his be- oh my gawd, that's terrible!" Cal threw a sympathetic look to his young specter. "Sorry- anyways, that means he's connected to this thing in some way-"

"Sam," Dean sighed, this was an old argument.

"Hey!" Cal frowned at the eldest brother, "Let the man speak." He flipped his hair back again; ready to perform his supernatural duty once more. "He says something like that doesn't happen _twice_ to the same person, not unless they're tied to it somehow. It's a fact Dean and you're just going to have to accept it." Dean's brow quirked in annoyance at how Sam-like Cal was suddenly sounding in his re-canting. "He thinks maybe, now that the shining has stepped up a few notches in the last several months that the demon is perhaps trying to claim its prize." Cal paused, "What's the shining?"

"It's complicated."

"Okay, you guys are doing it again."

"Cal." Dean rolled his eyes; frustration quite clear.

"Don't you '_Cal_' me mister! You're not the one having to be an interloper here." He crossed his arms. "Sam says you should apologize for being so mean to me all the time."

Dean stopped short, "Wha- …Sam did not say that."

"Yes he did."

"No he didn't, and you know what, you're going to hell for lying."

"Oh quit your complaining." Cal bit out to the younger brother who was trying to make himself heard.

"Can we focus here… please!" Dean called out loudly. "Damn Cal… you're worse than a woman!"

"I'm gay." He stated with finality as if that explained everything.

"Does that also make you an imbecile?"

"Oh so now we've moved onto name-calling? Well Mr. Hot-pants I'll have you know- what are you doing?" Cal asked suddenly.

Dean's brow quirked. Cal sent a look at the eldest brother and tilted his head towards the other side of the patient's bed, mouthing '_Sam_'. Dean's head turned to look first at the empty space across from him, and then down at the lifeless figure below.

His eyes hesitantly searched the air across from him. His voice was quiet, "Sam?" He glanced Cal's way who simply shrugged, his earlier anger lost, replaced with sympathy once more.

Cal's heart went out to the younger man as he simply stared down at his own body, mumbling something about 'weird' and 'disconnected'. One quiet question did come through clearly and it made every maternal instinct in him kick into full gear. "You're not. We'll figure it out Sam." He answered softly. Dean gave him a curious look; Cal gave him the 'later' sign.

Dean sighed. "Look Sam, about the thing that killed mom..."

"It was there."

Dean paused, "What?"

"He says it was there."

Once more, Dean found himself swallowing down his frustration; another unpleasant habit he found himself developing. "_Why_ Sam? Where's the motive? Where's the _proof_? A black smear on the ceiling? Hell that could've been there for years."

"Sam?" Cal's head was slowly turning, following the invisible brother who was slowly backing away from the bed. "What's wrong?"

Dean studied the worried look on the man's face, waiting for some kind of input. He vaguely felt the air sizzle suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck shooting up.

"Talk to me here honey, what's going on?" Cal moved towards the corner of the room, wishing he could lay a consoling hand on the younger Winchester who looked like the migraine monster was beating him incessantly. "Oh no- Dean, I think it's happening again."

"Shit." Dean ground out. He didn't expect it to happen so quickly again. He took a step towards the corner of the room when one of the florescent lights suddenly sizzled and popped as it blew out. He ducked, half expecting it to cause the entire fixture to explode. "Sam? You need to focus alright?" He had to raise his voice as the shades covering the window sills started rattling. The dresser drawers began shuddering in place. "Think of mom… or- or Jessica! Focus on Jessica; the first time you saw her! Your first date…" the greeting cards flew from their stations like ninja stars, whipping around the room as if in a wind storm. He lunged for the hospital bed, trying to protect the lifeless body beneath. "The first time you kissed her… or how about those stupid smurf pajamas!" he half laughed, remembering his brother's expression when he first commented on them. "Think about her favorite movie, her favorite song, her-"

He was cut short as a loud, shrilling beeping noise suddenly filled the air. His eyes widened as the monitors went crazy. Sparks suddenly shot out of the heart monitor. _Oh that's not good_. "SAM!" Dean pleaded; the chair he'd attached himself to all night bounced off the wall, and then his leg. He grimaced in pain, but held fast, especially now that the hospital bed was trying to roll away. "SHIT!" Another monitor of which he hand no clue to its purpose suddenly shot backwards, smashing into the wall.

The door to the room suddenly burst open and in thundered two-hundred and seventy pounds of solid mass. "What the hell is goin on in here!" the man stopped short as the bathroom door almost crashed into his face.

"Jamie!" Cal cried, tucked into a ball on the floor, covering his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. The stupefied look of shock suddenly turned mother-bear protective as the GNC nurse heard the blond man's call. He dodged a drawer that shot out of the dresser and fell to the floor, taking his friend's hand in his and half covering him with his own bulk; eyes frantically flying around the room.

And suddenly it ended; get well cards flittered to the floor, the shades fell back into place, doors stopped swinging, light fixtures and dresser drawers stopped rattling, equipment and furniture stopped smashing into things. Everything went silent.

Dean let out a relieved breath, resting his head on his brother's chest; relishing the silence once more. _Complete silence_.

His head suddenly shot up, looking at the life-support equipment scattered about the room. There was nothing, no beeping, no repetitive whoosing of oxygen… nothing. "Oh shit." He whispered. "No no no no no!" his hands frantically went from his brothers chest to holding his head. "Sammy!" His head whipped around in panic, "Help him!" he demanded to the two men still in awe on the floor.

The imploring look of helplessness in the brother's eyes drove the trained nurse into action. He pushed off the floor and took two wide strides to the wall behind the bed, his hand punching a large red button on the wall. The nurse had suddenly transformed into a whirlwind of activity; moving equipment around, checking stats, and attaching a spare breathing apparatus to the tube still in Sam's mouth. "You two need to get out of here now!" he commanded with hardly a glance their way.

Dean was in shock, "What?"

"You need to leave!"

"No way in hell am I leaving-"

Jamie was suddenly in his face, all 270 pounds of him. "Any second now a team of doctors and nurses are gonna come charging in here… and I don't know what the hell to tell em happened. If someone sees you here they'll think you did this and it'll likely be the last time you'll see your brother unless it's from behind bars. Cally!"

Cal suddenly appeared behind the brother, pulling his arm urgently. "Dean we have to go!"

"I can't just leave him!"

"Take him to my place, I'll meet you there." End of conversation. Jamie was all business, using every trick he had to get the systems back online and keep the boy's body alive.

"Dean!" Cal gave a hard pull, and suddenly the brother caved, allowing himself to be lead out the door and down the hallway and around the corner just as a support crew ran through the wing's security doors and into Sam's room.

**TBC…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Frick-n-frack: **I'm outta town this weekend so I thought I'd update a little early. Thanks again guys for all the reviews! On a side note, I am officially changing the spelling of losing to loosing……..er** - **I don't think that's gonna fly. Sorry Kaewi, I tried to make it better ;)

**CHAPTER 9 **

"Here, drink this." Cal pushed a mug of coffee into Dean's loose hands resting on the kitchen table. They'd high-tailed it out of the hospital, Cal dragging the brother behind him. Only when they'd reached the impala did Dean suddenly come back to life and snatch his keys back, shoving Cal towards the passenger side. He hadn't said a word the entire time. And now, sitting in Jamie's loft at his kitchen table, he'd gone lifeless once more. Just sitting there, staring at his hands. '_More like staring through them'_, Cal worried as he sat across from him, a steaming mug in his own hands. "Coffee."

And that was all. He hadn't said a full sentence since the _incident_; just one-word demands or notices. He didn't attempt conversation; he knew it would not be appreciated. And as Cal was superb in the art of gab, this stunted monologue he was having to revert to was really wearing on him. But he sat in silence with Dean; eyes also taken to the unique swirls in the wood along the table.

It wasn't as if he wasn't haunted _himself_ by the _incident_. He could only imagine the state Dean would be in if he'd actually been able to hear his little brother's screams as he writhed in pain on the floor, curled up into a tight ball, hands pressed tightly to his temples. The pain and complete state of helplessness was what had brought him to tears earlier. It was definitely not something Cal wanted to ever witness again; _because the first time wasn't bad enough_, he thought wryly. If this whole engagement didn't kill him, the nightmares of it certainly would.

"What did he say?"

Even though the question had almost been whisper quality, it had still startled him out of his morose thoughts. "What?" he asked at the same level.

After another lengthy pause, the soft voice appeared again, "Earlier… Sam said something to you and you answered 'you're not'." Dean was still staring at his hands, still unmoving, still in shock. "What did he say?"

Cal sat silently for a moment, questioning if the brother was perhaps more fortunate not knowing. He pressed his cold fingers closer around the mug, trying to leach some kind of warmth from it. "What if I'm better off this way?" he finally answered.

Dean's green eyes suddenly refocused and looked up, searching the other man's face. Nothing could bring the elder brother back to life faster than anger. "What? …How can he be better off as a vegetable?"

"I don't think he meant _that_ Dean." Cal gestured, placating. Dean's head tilted back. "I think he meant as a ghost."

"Why would he even think that? If he's not a ghost then he's _alive_."

"Or dead."

"That's not gonna happen."

"Okay," Cal acquiesced calmly, not in anyway condescending, "let's say we beat this; Sam's ghost somehow gets back into his body and he wakes up." He paused, looking hard across the table. "His body has been practically brain-dead for almost three days now. I'm not talking about a coma here Dean; two electrolytes away from being brain-dead. You don't come out of something like that without consequences; I don't care what the movies say."

"That's not gonna be an issue; he's my brother, we'll work through it. It'll be fine."

"What if his brain is damaged?"

"Sam was born damaged; can we not talk about this?"

Cal relented for the time being. His message had gotten through no matter how much the stubborn brother wanted to ignore it.

"Why the hell hasn't he called yet?" Dean vented.

"The room was destroyed Dean. They probably had to switch him to another one. And re-hooking life support systems isn't exactly a five minute procedure. Not to mention the tests they probably had to run to make sure his vital organs weren't damaged further." He placed a hand flat on the wood. "If something had happened, he would've called."

Dean leaned his elbows on the table, running his hands over his head. "This is bull-shit."

"I'm sorry?" Cal didn't quite catch the brother's mumble.

Dean looked up, arms falling to the table with a thud, and raising his voice. "I said this is bull-shit."

Cal also dropped his arms to the table, venting a little of his own frustration. "Well excuse me missy. Look, we're obviously going to be here a while and there doesn't seem to be anything else for us to do that doesn't include fuzzy handcuffs, Barry White and a g-string," Dean's chair squealed against the floor as he pushed back from the table grimacing and cursing, trying to dispel the images invading his imagination. "So why don't we go over specifics and see if we can't figure out why this is happening in the first place? What caused it?"

The proposal was on the table and Dean lunged for it; anything to distract his thoughts from their host's bedtime manners. He leaned down, this time resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know exactly." He said on exhale. "We got a lead that several people had gone missing around that part of town. One witness specifically said he saw one of the victims go into that building." He shrugged. "So we went to check it out."

"Yeah that still creeps me out that you guys actually do this for a living."

"It was night and we-"

"You went at night?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah."

"Um, hellooo? Have you ever _watched_ a horror movie before? All bad things come out at night."

"Yeah," Dean replied flatly, "and in order for us to kill the _bad things_, we kinda have to be there when they come out."

Cal sought out his mug. "So night-time…"

"We went in; we each had a shot-gun. I was using the EMF and Sam was-"

"What's an EMF?"

"Not important. Sam-"

"Does it detect portals?" Cal asked excitedly.

"Yeah Cal it detects portals."

Cal rested his cheek on his fist. "That is so lush! So Sam was what?"

"Covering my six. We started going room to room, lookin around. We were still on the first floor when the reader suddenly went live." Dean absently rubbed the back of his head. "He came out of nowhere. Shoved me against the wall. When I came to a minute or so later, he was gone." Dean paused, his eyes seeing more than the panels in the floor. "Sammy was just laying there. Not a scratch on him." Dean licked his lips. "He wasn't breathing so good, so I threw his heavy ass over my shoulder and drove like a maniac to the nearest hospital. The rest you know."

Cal's head shook on his fist in amazement, "How did you get out of there without being noticed? The news said the body was just, discovered, no witnesses as to where it came from."

Dean's eyes sought the floor. "There was um… there was already two ambulances in front of the emergency room. So I parked behind them; didn't even shut the car off, just got out and pulled Sam out, calling for help. There was a gurney by the door, so I laid him there, and then went back to the car to grab an ID card. When I turned back, I guess the guys from the ambulances had come back out and found him, because they started wheeling him inside calling for help. And I don't know… everything just started happening at once." Dean pushed to a standing position, pacing across the floor. "I tried to follow them into the room they'd taken him to, but some doctors, or nurses- I don't know which one shoved me out of the way. They were all yellin and shit." His hands became more animated as he felt a familiar weight of guilt and shame suddenly settle over him. He stopped, head turning back at the man listening patiently at the table, his eyes frozen on the floor. "A couple of cops showed up and started asking people questions," one shoulder lifted and dropped in defeat, "I freaked out." A moment of uncomfortable silence passed. "I left him," he swallowed, "I left my little brother in the hands of strangers." Dean continued staring at the floor; he'd hoped that maybe saying it out loud would help alleviate some of the guilt. It hadn't, if anything he felt even worse now.

"Well…" Cal gave a small nod; now also deep in thought as he stared at the table, "thank God you did."

Dean paused. "Come again?"

"No offense Dean, but you aren't exactly equipped to handle a situation like that. If you hadn't left him with them, he'd probably be dead."

"Yeah but I left him… period."

"And if you hadn't left, you'd probably be in a jail cell right now and Sam would be fighting this alone." Cal could see his opponent was defeated; but that didn't mean the brother had to like it. He figured moving on was best rather than flaunting his victory. "So what do you think happened?"

"I don't know." Dean shook his head, sliding his chair back towards the table and slouching into it, weary.

"You've never come across something like this before?"

"Zombies? Yes. But something else happened. Zombies kill; they eat. This thing attacked and ran away."

"Maybe he wasn't hungry."

"It's not a matter of being hungry; they eat because it's what they do… it's like breathing." Dean shook his head in frustration. "But what the hell did he do to Sam?" he asked, more to himself.

"Well, like he said in the car, he doesn't remember." Cal folded his hands around his cooling mug again. "What about the thing that killed your mom and Julie?" he asked hesitantly.

"Jessica," Dean corrected. He gave an exhausted sigh, resting his forehead in his hand. "It just doesn't make sense that this thing would suddenly show up."

"And the _shining_ thing? Whatever it is that Sam's got? What if it came looking for _that _like he said?"

"Yeah but if it were there we would've seen it-" Dean froze mid rant… a large lump of lead settled in his gut. "Second floor," he barely whispered.

"What?"

"We were in the eastern side of the building."

"And that's significant because…"

"Because that would've put us directly below the room with the dead guy, and more importantly the room with the burned ceiling."

"We're calling it a burned ceiling now?"

"We have to go back."

"Whoa- wha?" Cal slurred, taken a back.

Dean rose suddenly, pulling his keys from the kitchen counter. "We have to go back."

Cal watched him head towards the door, he stumbled out of his chair, following. "You wanna go _back_ to the scary dead man?"

"There's something I have to know."

"Care to share with the gay guy just what exactly that something is?" They were out of the apartment and running down the stairwell. Evidently Dean was too worked up to stand around in an elevator, he needed immediate action, and apparently the stairs were his temporary relief. Cal huffed along behind him. "Dean… I would like to formally protest this plan… I think it sucks."

"We're goin." Dean's voice brooded no argument as he slammed the stairwell door open.

"Understood…" they hurried through the lobby and into the streets, "but… do you think maybe I could have a better weapon this time?"

"What- why?" They reached the car. "You didn't lose the hankie did you?" Dean paused before opening the door, looking over the hood at his reluctant partner. "Tell me you didn't lose the hankie."

"No I didn't _lose_ it Dean." Cal said, his voice flat, clearly not finding this funny. "I did however almost lose my head last time and I'd kinda like something with a little more assurance behind it."

"Have faith my friend," Dean shoved his key in the door, "the hankie is blessed."

Cal paused as Dean pulled his door open, "Did you just call me your friend?" he asked with an awe-filled grin on his face.

"Get in the car." Dean slid into his seat, slamming his door shut.

Cal remained where he was, still all smiles. "Admit it, you actually like me!"

"Get in the car!"

Cal slid in and grinned at the red-faced Winchester. "So… do you have any Barry White tapes in this love machine?"

**TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Authors Lament: **Okay, just so you know, I'm a little wary of this chapter. I keep reading it over and I just can't figure what needs tweaking. So let me know.Also, I'd like to thank Tricksters Apprentice for her official stamp of approval… I should get a sticker or something! That's awesome! Joou Himeko- no more eating food while reading my stories, they're not spew worthy ;) Kaewi- I am very surprised at how little Sam is in this too because he's my favorite, I really wasn't sure if people would flow with this, but apparently some people are just as weird as me! Geminigrl- …I just love that you used the word kudos!

**CHAPTER 10**

"Hello scary building… I see you are still looking quite decrepit a desolate… so hey, why don't I just come on in there and whack you with my blessed hankie?"

"You are one disturbed individual." Dean stepped over some soggy cardboard amongst the abandoned streets and buildings; throwing a concerned glance to his partner who looked quite calm despite the last 48 hours. They reached the open, concrete doorway of the ominous-looking building Dean was becoming quite familiar with and walked inside. He already knew exactly where they were going.

"I'm a gay man being haunted by a half-dead brother and carrying around a hankie as a weapon… speaking to walls is the least of my problems."

"So what was it? Did you get picked last in gym class? Lose the blue-prints to your tree-house? …Someone steal your football?"

"Have you heard of this amazing process out there? It's called clarification."

"Oh god you sound like Sam." He grumbled, but suddenly his head was swinging around to Cal.

"Nope; sorry sugar. And I haven't got a clue what you're talking about."

"Your childhood… what manly act did you miss out on that made you-… you?"

Cal was surprised to say the least by the line of questioning. He could only surmise that Dean was obviously missing him and his brother's daily banter so much so that he felt the need to fill the void in some way. "Well Mr. Sensitive, if you must know my father was in the Navy so he was never around. My mother practically raised me. But he made sure I went to an all boy's school. You know… to make a man outta me." Cal snorted, "Boy was he surprised when I brought back my prom date the _one night_ he was actually home."

Dean actually let out a short laugh. If anything because he could just imagine the look on _his_ father's face had he or Sam brought home a prom date of the same gender. And again, Laura Winters popped into his mind.

"So what did you miss out on in _your_ childhood?"

Dean gave a sharp shake of his head, moving through the next room. "Other than our mom? Nothing, I loved my childhood."

"You say that as if someone else didn't."

Dean's mouth set into a grim line as they stepped into the connecting room. "It was harder on Sam. He grew up in this."

"So did you." Cal pointed out.

Dean shook his head, sliding back a piece of plastic acting as a door and stepped into _the_ room. "I had a good five years of normalcy. Sam didn't. He doesn't know what it's like to have two parents who love you and treat you like a kid instead of a hunter; who'll play games with you or…" he stopped in front of the plastic covering the little room where, by the smell of it, the body still laid. His words sounded tired and a bit defeated. "…who'll hold you and tell you everything's gonna be alright when you think there's a monster in your closet."

Cal realized there was more to that statement than met his ears. "He had you." He stated as if bringing the simplest fact to light.

Dean hesitantly glanced at him. "Let's hope that enough." He mumbled before pulling back the sheet of plastic and looking straight up. Just because he worked with corpses and evil dead every day didn't mean he enjoyed looking at them.

"Oh my gawd!" Cal back-peddled a few feet and quickly sought out the cleanest air in the room with which to calm his heaving stomach. "Are you sure that's human?"

"Yup." Dean's eyes roamed the ceiling.

"Oh, that's horrific!"

Dean's brow twitched suddenly and he looked down. He started shoving the corpse with his shoes; sliding it across the floor against the wall.

"Oh my gawd, what are you doing?" Cal asked sickly, hearing the scuffling noise from across the room.

Dean knelt down and stared at the floor where the body had once laid, that lump of lead in his gut re-appearing. A pair of black handprints burned into the concrete floor stared mockingly back at him.

"Dean?" Cal's voice sounded a bit hesitant.

"Yeah." He answered distractedly.

"Where's the body?"

"Two feet from where you last saw it." Dean answered in frustration.

"No, I mean Eddies."

Dean was on his feet and looking to the place the zombie had supposedly died. "Damn." He couldn't believe he'd actually missed that. He was definitely off his game.

"Don't say that. Don't say damn. Damn insinuates that something bad is going to happen." Cal rambled nervously.

"Come on." Dean backed out of the room with one last glance before heading back towards the stairwell; Cal close on his heels.

Cal paused though as the elder brother started going _up_ the stairs instead of down. "Where are you going?"

"I need to check something else out."

Cal ran after him, "What about _Eddie the Ex-delivery Boy_?"

"Quit worrying." Dean reached the third-story and checked the rounds in his shotgun. "I'm a good shot."

"Yeah, because that worked so well last time."

Dean threw an annoyed glare his way. "He was dead alright? That _thing-_ revived him or something." He moved through the doorways, following the familiar pattern of the second and first floors.

"Wait, wait, wait… so it brought the un-dead, dead guy back to undead life?"

"Something like that." Dean wasn't really paying attention to the man behind him anymore. They had stepped into the room above the room above _the incident_. This time though there was no smaller, connecting room, just one large one. And right where he had predicted was another black smear where the ceiling and floor had been touched by fire.

"I don't get it." Cal stared at the black marks.

"Sam was right." Dean sighed. "That thing was here the other night."

"To kill Sam?"

Dean shook his head absently. "That doesn't make sense. If the thing wanted him dead, he'd a been dead a long time ago. I just-" he broke off with a sigh, stepping further into the room, the weariness of the last couple days laying heavily on his features.

"Okay," Cal too stepped further into the room, wanting to offer his assistance. "What if it wanted Sam's powers; the shining- or whatever you call it like he said before?"

"But why like this? Why separate his soul from his body?" Dean paused. The kind of pause brought on by the mysterious light-bulb above the head effect. "He can't do it."

Cal waited on the edge of his seat. Something had obviously clicked into place in the elder Winchester's head. Dean turned to him, a disbelieving grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.

"He can't absorb his power." Dean announced. He couldn't believe it was this simple. "It separates Sam's soul from his body in such a way that it becomes attached to this plane… and then it just sits back and waits for Sam's spirit to decompose."

"Why?"

"He can't absorb the Shining, so what would be the next best thing?"

"Karaoke?"

"Having a poltergeist with the Shining as its lapdog."

Cal's eyebrows twisted, "What, like a slave?"

"More like a personal assistant."

Cal looked a little ill at what the other man was proposing. "You don't honestly think Sam would help that thing."

"If he keeps spiking? Sam won't have a clue who he is… he'll be like every other Poltergeist out there, only a helluva lot more powerful."

"And paired up with the thing that killed your mom and his girlfriend…"

Dean sighed, the heavy weight of defeat once more pressing down. If this wasn't his ultimate failure he didn't know what was; handing his baby brother over to the hands that started this whole mess in the first place. Who the hell thought he was qualified for this anyways?

"Dean."

The brother turned at the suddenly tense whisper, searching the other man's face.

"I think he's back."

The switch from distracted anger to alert-fullness was immediate, as Dean turned to where Cal had pointed, his shot gun raised and his ears open. "Where?"

"Eddie… over there." He raised a shaking finger again.

Dean peered into the shadows near the corner of the room where a few rusting metal cabinets sat. He didn't see anything else, but he waited. "You sure?"

"Yeah it's- wait." Cal suddenly bumped into the brother's back.

Dean turned aiming the other way, but still there was nothing. Cal let out a small shriek and jumped around, facing the other way again.

"Damnit Cal." Dean cursed, searching the room for their perpetrator.

"What if there's more than one?" Cal fisted his hand in the brother's jacket. Cal felt a cold pressure of air at his back and turned with a shriek. "Samuel!" he cried in relief, holding a hand to his pounding heart once more. "You're gonna give me a heart-attack sweetie!"

"Sam?" Dean asked hopeful.

"Yeah." Cal nodded. He straightened up again, but paused at the look the youngest Winchester was giving him. It was a look lacking comprehension, a look of distrust. "Sam?"

And suddenly Cal was being tossed like a rag doll across the room. He landed non-too-gently on his backside and slid the last few feet to a stop. Dean turned wide eyes back to the empty space between him and his invisible brother… but he couldn't force himself to raise the shotgun.

"Sam?" Dean shouted desperately. He tightened his grip on the weapon. "What the hell are you doin buddy? Come on, it's me!" His eyes searched the room. "It's your brother Dean, remember me?" He stood there, tense; waiting. Nothing happened. "Cal?" he asked cautiously, not turning his head.

"I think I got another splinter," Cal whined.

"He still here?" Dean ignored; if the man was talking, he was fine.

"Yeah." Cal groaned as he pushed his thin frame to a standing position, rubbing his butt and gingerly coming to stand behind the older brother. He peeked around Dean's shoulder at Sam, who was staring at Dean warily. "I think he recognizes you."

"He damn well should. I've only been in his face the past _twenty-three_ years."

Cal watched the recognition suddenly click into place, and his brother's name spoken on the younger man's lips. "He's calling you." Cal nudged Dean's back.

"Yeah I'm right here Sam," Dean sighed with relief. "You with us again?"

"He wants to know what's happening." Cal translated, still hiding behind the older brother, not certain his presence was appreciated yet.

"You were right Sam. The thing that killed mom and Jessica… it came after you."

"He doesn't know what thing you're talking about, and um…" he pressed his lips together, "he doesn't remember Jessica."

Dean fought his facial expressions; the last thing he needed to do was make Sam think his frustration was directed towards him. Well… technically it was, but more towards what the situation had done to his brother. It just wasn't fair. "Alright Sam, you know I'm your brother right?"

"Yeah." Cal answered for him.

"And as your brother you trust me right? I'm serious here."

There was a moment's pause where Cal waited for the younger man's answer, who was looking quite confused. "Yes, he trusts you."

"Alright, then I need you to listen to me very carefully okay? There is this _thing_ out there that attacked you, and it started a chain reaction that is causing you to lose yourself- your memories. You're probably feeling a little angry right now? Got a lot of pent-up negative energy goin on?"

Cal watched the younger brother carefully. He was still being overly cautious, even with his brother. He supposed even some of the memories of him and his brother had been lost too. Having holes in ones timeline tended to put most people in a distrustful state of mind. Underneath the wariness though he could also see the barely contained anger… rage. Sam was practically vibrating with it.

He realized he'd been holding his breath waiting for the younger man to answer, so he let it out slowly. "He nodded yes."

"Good-"

"He wants to know why you can't hear him." Cal interrupted. "Or see him."

Dean sighed; he didn't know how much to tell his little brother in his current state of mind. "Do you remember what we do for a living?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember _why_?"

"He doesn't."

"A demon killed our mom Sam, when you were still a baby. We've been hunting supernatural things ever since; but the thing that killed mom… it came back for you."

"Yes." Cal answered Sam's questioning if the demon and his attacker were one in the same.

"The demon did something to you; it separated your spirit from your body. And for some _fucked up_ reason the only one that can see or hear you is Cal." Cal gave a small wave over Dean's shoulder. "And he's gay… so you know, don't be nice to him or anything cuz he might propose to you when this is all over."

Cal slapped Dean's shoulder half-heartedly. He knew he wasn't intentionally being an ignorant jackass, well- okay he _was_, but it was for his brothers sake… anything to help calm that raging storm inside him; bring a little light-heartedness to the inferno. Sam actually directed his question to Cal this time, a little more trusting apparently after his brother's joke. "He wants to know what's happening to him."

Dean licked his lips, "You're spiking… it's-" He made a frustrated grunt. "You're turning into the very thing we hunt." He _was_ going to calmly explain the entire process yet again, but felt father time was looking at him expectantly, tapping his watch.

"How do we stop it?" Cal translated.

And this was the question he had hoped to avoid. "I don't know." He answered honestly.

"What happens if he keeps spiking?"

Okay, so maybe _this_ was the question he'd been hoping to avoid. "Then you turn poltergeist and buddy up with the thing that killed mom."

"And basically become unstoppable?" Cal asked quietly.

"Yeah." Dean answered.

"You have to stop the process."

"I already told you Sam I don't know how."

There was a brief pause. "At Saint Lukes Hospital." Cal answered the young man's question. "Yeah, it's still alive; barely."

"Look Sam, we're gonna figu-"

"He wants you to promise you won't let the process finish."

"I promise Sam." Dean answered without hesitation. Lord knows he'd demand the same thing too were he in his brother's position.

"He says no matter what, you can't let him become that."

"I won't, I promise."

Another pause. "Are you sure?" Cal asked the spirit, not at all liking what he was hearing.

"What?" Dean asked curiously.

Cal swallowed and spoke quietly, reverently. "He says he thinks if you let his body die, it'll stop the process."

Dean shook his head, a little shocked at the rude suggestion. "No way. Every other poltergeist out there became what they are _because_ their body died."

"He says exactly. The spirits of those people separated from their bodies _after_ they died. His separated prematurely… unnaturally. He thinks if the body dies before the spiking process culminates, it'll nullify and his spirit won't be bound here."

"It won't come to that." Dean said firmly.

Cal's hand suddenly twisted into Dean's jacket in fear. "He says it already has." His voice was quietly tense.

"What?" Dean glanced back at the other man, eyes wide at the implications he knew where being thrown his way. A small rattling sound appeared from the corner of the room as the metal cabinet's drawers started shaking in place, not much, but enough for the point to be driven home.

"Dean, he says we should go." Cal instructed urgently, pulling slightly on the jacket still fisted in his hand.

Dean fought it, "This isn't it Sam, we still got time." The metal cabinet suddenly flew backwards, crashing loudly into the concrete wall. "Damnit!" Dean yelled in anger.

"Dean!" Cal pulled desperately on the other man's jacket. An old florescent light bulb resting against the wall suddenly exploded sending tiny shards of glass into their exposed skin. "We have to go!" He gave one last tug and together the two men sprinted for the stairway. The entire trek through the building they were defending against any type of free-floating object that had suddenly turned lethal. This had definitely been the worst spike yet, it seemed to be engulfing more than just the building; for as they ran towards the car, random debris in the streets started flying about and the streetlights started popping as the bulbs shattered.

The two men practically dove into the car and Dean shoved it into gear and tore out of the parking lot making a beeline for the hospital. Neither man spoke. It was the longest four minutes of Dean's life.

Cal breathed heavily beside him, trying to slow his pounding heart and his shaking hands. "Are we doing what I think we're doing?" he asked resolutely.

A long pause passed between them. Dean swallowed, his eyes never leaving the road. "I made a promise."

**TBC…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**You Must Listen to Me: **A promise is a promise is a promise… you all have trusted me thus far; you are safe in these words. I know I'm probably scaring some of you, but fear not! Oh and by the way, LOL! - - you guys crack me up! I adore all your reviews and am totally unworthy of them! I mean come on… what is the point of writing if you can't share it? So by all means… share your thoughts with me! However disturbing they may be ;)

**CHAPTER 11**

The Impala tore around the corner, tires screeching as they fought to find traction again. The hospital was just around the corner. Cal flipped his phone shut.

"Okay, Jamie's going to clear out that wing again and make sure we've got a clear path."

"He's okay with this?" Dean asked, still a little unsure of the large, muscular man.

"No." Cal sighed. "But he trusts me. Plus he was there when Sam spiked there last time; so he knows something weird is going on. I owe him a huge dinner when this is over." Cal was trying for a little normalcy in their conversation. Anything to distract from what they were about to do. He suddenly leaned forward in his seat, squinting as they came closer to the hospital's back entrance. "Is that who I think it is?"

Dean caught site of it too and felt a wave of anger course through his veins. "Son-of-a-bitch!" He slammed down on the accelerator and headed straight for him.

"Oh crap." Cal squeeled, pressing himself into his seat, waiting for the inevitable. He wasn't disappointed as the Impala slammed into Eddie Ex-_Ex_-delivery Boy and threw his large bulk across the rest of the parking lot and into the hospital wall, falling to an un-moving heap on the ground.

Dean threw the car into park, got out and ran around to the back. He threw open the trunk and pulled out a long, thin sword. He reached in again and pulled out his shotgun, tossing it to Cal who barely caught it with wide eyes before slamming the trunk closed. Cal didn't question or comment, he just followed. Dean strode determinedly towards the zombie still un-moving on the ground.

"I should've done this the first time." He mumbled with anger. His grip tightened on the sword and he raised it at an angle. The sword was suddenly ripped from his grasp and flew to the side, imbedding itself in the grass twenty feet away.

"Oh crap," Cal whispered; his gaze focused on a distant point out in the parking lot. "Sam's here," he turned fearful eyes to the older brother, "and I don't think he's gonna recognize you this time."

Dean flinched as one by one, the street lights started exploding in sequence, working their way towards the two men. Dean took one last glance at the sword and then cursed, shoving Cal towards the back door. Cal had hardly even gotten one pound from his fist on it before it swung open. Jamie, in all his mother-bear protectiveness, yanked the blond man inside. Dean followed closely behind and the door slammed shut, but not before the light directly above the door shattered.

"Are you two alright?" Jamie asked; frustration clear in his voice.

"Not yet." Dean brushed the thin shards of glass out of his hair. "We need to get to Sam's room now."

"What the hell is going on!" the big man yelled, losing his patience.

Cal grabbed the larger man's arms, facing him. "Look honey, I'll explain everything later I promise. Just _please_… Sam's room." Jamie looked between the two with wary anger. "A locked door isn't gonna stop this." Cal indicated the door behind them.

Dean recognized the irony in that statement. Less than a day ago he'd been telling some sappy memory to his unconscious brother about unlocking doors for him, and here he was, trying to lock as many doors as he could between his ghosted brother and himself.

Jamie finally nodded and headed down the hallway at a quick jog. The other two followed closely behind, glancing behind them every few seconds.

"You're gonna need this." Jamie tossed his card key to Dean. "It'll get you into the wing."

"And it's all cleared?"

"Yeah. Took a lot of persuading, but I've got a good staff."

Dean nodded as they were sprinting up more stairs. They went through the door on the sixth floor and Dean spotted the secured doors at the end of the hallway. He turned to Jamie, putting a hand on his chest. "You can't come with us."

"Like hell I can't." Jamie stood to his full height, pouring on the intimidation.

Dean would've fallen for it too, had he not seen the man turn _pretty pretty princess_ in a split second the day before. He tried for reasonable. "Look man, this thing that's coming, it's gonna wreak havoc on your hospital equipment. Remember what happened earlier? Think ten times bigger." Dean gave the man a pat on the arm. "You need to be ready to look after your patients."

Jamie swallowed his pride after seeing the serious look of affirmation Cal was giving him. He gave a small nod and turned without another word. Dean turned to look at Cal and together they ran down the hall.

"Do you think we're too late?" Cal asked quietly as Dean slid the card Jamie gave him through the security lock. The door clicked and Dean looked at the other man gravely.

"You better pray we're not." He pushed through the door and entered the silent wing. Dean's head swiveled back and forth. They reached the nurses station in the middle of the wing. "Jamie didn't happen to mention which room he's in did he?"

"609."

They passed through the station to the other side and started down the row of doors until room number 609 stared back at them. Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest and he reached his hand out, pressing the door open. Cal waited patiently for him to gather the courage to once more enter his brother's domain; this time with an entirely different motive in mind. Dean took slow steps into the room and felt a wave of _deja vu _flood his system as he took in the sight of his brother once more lying on his death bed. Cal stood off to the side watching the doorway, allowing the brother at least that.

Dean forced his feet to move towards the bed. He gripped the metal rail and found he was having a little trouble breathing. A battle raged inside his head, but even as it warred, he knew what he had to do. He'd made a promise, and he was damn well gonna keep it this time.

"It should never have gotten this far Sammy… I'm sorry." His voice quavered quietly, and before he had a chance to doubt his decision, he reached behind the equipment and pulled the plug. Cal closed his eyes, hearing as the brother walked around to the other side and ripped the other cords out of the wall. The beeping died, and the oxygen stopped. Dean just stood there. It was over. Everything was over. He didn't begin to kid himself that he was going to carry on by himself. Suicide was _never_ an option; but that didn't mean he couldn't just shut down. He'd still do the job, it was all he had left… but he'd never be the same. He stared at the cords in his hand. _I did this._ He'd made a promise, he reminded himself; a promise kept. He squeezed the cords and then dropped them.

He turned back to Cal, but froze as the beeping noise suddenly picked back up. Cal's wide eyes searched his. Dean turned back and witnessed a trail of electricity shoot up the equipment; oxygen machine suddenly coming back to life. He glanced down at the cords again, but already knew they were still laying there. "What the…"

And suddenly the blue spark of electricity that crawled up the machines turned orange and into a large flame as it jumped from the machines and flared to a roaring ball of fire that hovered near the other side of the room. Dean had a hand up in front of his face, but slowly brought it down as an invisible human form walked through the flame.

"Sam, don't!" Cal cried, but Dean found himself being hurled backwards through the door of the room and he hit the wall hard, falling to a heap on the floor. Cal pressed himself against the wall in fear. The lights in the room began exploding and the chairs crashed backwards into the walls. He could see Sam take a step towards the door, but it suddenly slammed shut with a wall of flame. The inferno circled the room in a whirlwind and then hovered over the bed and medical equipment; protective.

Cal swallowed down the lump of fear stuck in his throat and lifted the shotgun he had forgotten was still in his hands. He aimed at the hovering flames licking the air and pulled the trigger. The flames suddenly jumped to life, swirling around the salt pellets that embedded harmlessly into the wall. He froze, the gun dropping from numb fingers as the inferno suddenly erupted. "Okay," his voice shook, "bad idea huh?" He backed up until he bumped into the wall again as the flame continued grow hotter, it's roaring intensity increasing, like a bull getting ready to charge. His hands fumbled around for purchase. He hardly noticed that Sam was still staring at the closed door, ignoring what was no doubt Cal's imminent demise.

The demon suddenly shot forward towards Cal who screamed, pulling his hands from his pocket and holding them up in a futile defense. He felt a blunt pressure on his hands, but nothing happened. He cracked open one eye and saw the ball of fire still in front of him, looking royally pissed… for a _fire_ with no faceanyways. His eyes then focused on the white, square piece of thin cloth hanging from his hands like a security blanket. His eyes widened impossibly further as he realized the demon must've been repelled by the hankie, bouncing off harmlessly.

He actually laughed; it was the laugh of an insane man staring death in the face, but the relief that poured through him was overwhelming. He couldn't believe Dean had been telling him the truth. "Yeah that's right!" Cal yelled boldly. "This here's the blessed hankie of Calantha, _bitch_!"

The inferno flared, leaving black streaks along the walls. "Oh shit." Cal sank down the wall into a crouched ball, still holding the hankie in front of him. "Dean!" he cried out. He noticed out of the corner of his eye Sam had suddenly turned around.

Cal was taken aback at the sudden amount of power that the young man seemed to exude. White hot fire sparked in his dark eyes, and his dark hair whipped about in the wind of the inferno; his expression was solid and resolute. He stepped further into the room and stopped. The demon's growling flames seemed to grunt in pleasure at the presence of its new pet.

Cal was entranced as unexpectedly Sam's spirit was suddenly taken over by blue and white flames, starting at his feet and working its way up until he was completely engulfed. The demon seemed to recoil slightly in shock and fear. The opposing flames both grew until suddenly they both rocketed towards one another, colliding in a blue and orange inferno. The resulting concussion threw Cal against the wall hard, where he slumped into blackness.

Dean groaned as his pounding head joined in with his resistant muscles. He rolled away from the wall slightly to his back. This was not at all going like he planned. He heard Cal scream his name suddenly from inside the room. He rolled again, climbing unsteadily to his feet. Just as his hand was about grab the door knob, a streak of silver slashed down, fortunately only catching air. Dean stumbled backwards as Eddie towered over him, sword held clumsily in its hands.

"Round four huh?" Dean mocked. He dodged another swing, grabbing some files from the nurses station beside him and hurling them at the approaching zombie. It didn't even phase him. The monster took another swing across his chest, which Dean only avoided by falling backwards to the floor. He lashed out his foot, kicking the weapon out of the creature's hand. It wasn't much, seeing as the zombie was big enough to be considered a lethal weapon in and of it's self, but at least he wasn't dodging sharp objects anymore. The thought was short-lived however as the hulking form reached down and got purchase of Dean's shirt, lifting him and tossing him effortlessly against the far wall. Dean hit it and fell to a sitting position.

By the time he got his wits about him and actually looked up, the creature had its hand in his shirt again and was lifting him to his feet, pinning him against the wall while it pulled its other fist back, ready to put it _through_ Dean's head. The motion never carried through however as the tip of something silver was suddenly protruding from the zombie's chest.

Dean almost cursed at how close the point of the sword was to his own chest. "The head!" He yelled suddenly. "Cal, you have to cut off the head!"

The creature let out an unholy growl as the sword was pulled out and suddenly swung down expertly at a clean angle. Dean found himself suddenly free, and dropping to the floor against the wall. The zombies head rolled across the floor as the body fell to the side with a loud, vibrating thump.

Eddie Ex-_Ex-Ex_-delivery Boy was no more. Dean leaned his head against the wall trying to catch his breath, his eyes closed. He heard the sword fall to the ground. "Why didn't you tell me you knew how to wield a sword Cal?"

"He doesn't." Dean froze, his eyes opening slowly at the shaky voice. "I do."

"Sammy?" Dean whispered warily. "I thought you joined dark side." Something else occurred to him, "I can see you."

"Yeah, it's over Dean…" Sam looked about ready to fall over himself. "They're gone… _he's_ gone. We did it." Dean would've joined in the tired celebration but a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Oh God!" Dean had never felt more ill in his life. He actually had to put his hand to his mouth to stave off his sick stomach. "I pulled the plug! Oh God, Sammy, I'm so sorry." Dean fell back against the wall again; how many more times could he fail his brother? His entire body burned with his actions... with his mistake.

"It's okay Dean." Sam's face glowed with concern, a gentle, loving smile touching his lips. He half kneeled, half fell before his older brother. "It's okay."

"No it's not! It's not okay Sam!" Dean wanted nothing more than to scream. "This whole fucking week has not been okay!"

"Dean." Sam felt his heart stir at the emotions Dean was bearing to the world for once… for him. He reached a hand forward and gently wrapped his fingers around his brother's wrist.

Dean's breath caught in his throat, wide eyes staring first at the very real grip, and then shifting to his little brothers eyes. He noticed the differences now; the hospital scrubs his brother was wearing, the mussed hair, bloodshot eyes, pale skin, hospital tape still hanging from his hand. "Sam?" he breathed, fearful that his mere voice would make this reality shatter.

"Yeah." The brother replied, exhaustion in his hoarse voice.

"How-" Dean's voice faltered in awe as he struggled for an explanation.

"I remembered something." Sam informed him, never taking his eyes off his brother's.

Dean still struggled for words, he was still in shock that this was really happening, that his brother was actually sitting here in front of him, holding his wrist and talking to him. "What?"

Sam smiled kindly, "The basement door was never locked."

And then they came; the first time Sam had ever seen his brother openly cry and not from physical pain. He squeezed the wrist, and suddenly Dean was grasping at his arm, pulling him in.

"It's okay." Sam whispered tiredly, his forehead resting on his brother's shoulder as Dean sobbed into his hair. "It's alright… you did it Dean." And there they sat until the last few days had been flushed from their systems. One brother's palpable relief at being able to hold his brother and hear him again, the other brother relieved that he could simply be recognized once more by the one person that mattered the most to him.

**TBC… A promise kept… the brothers live on :) (okay so it was a little corny, I'll admit it... but I couldn't help it)**

**…more to come**


	12. Chapter 12

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Your Fave Side Note: **Hey all, I am so sorry for the wait, I was going to load this last night and then the night before and then the night before… you get my drift. Anyways, there are still about two more chapters after this one, and I plan on… hopefully, getting all three loaded this weekend. Thank you all again SOOO much for the reviews! As lame and pathetic as it makes me sound, I live for those things… reviews are AWESOME! So keep em comin… cuz I've got a fever, and the only cure is more cowb- …er- reviews. ;)

**Chapter 12**

Twenty minutes later a crashing noise erupted from down the hall. Suddenly Cal stumbled into the open area of the wing and froze at the site before him. Dean was half-sitting half lying against the wall, with Sam's back slumped against his chest. Both were asleep, exhaustion taking over both of them.

"Damn, where's a camera when you need one?" He had said it quietly but as it was Cal, it had still been loud enough to stir the elder Winchester.

Dean opened his bleary bloodshot eyes and took in a long, deep breath of oxygen… feeling a hundred percent better knowing that his brother was still with him. He looked up noticing Cal staring at them, looking like he'd just found his lost puppy. Dean grimaced, but didn't let go. "Would you stop that?" Dean whispered loud enough for Cal to hear.

"I'm sorry." Cal whispered loudly, though it was obvious he wasn't. "It's just, you guys are so cu-"

"Don't say it. Just… can you get Jamie or something?"

"Why?" Cal asked suddenly, fearing they were hurt.

"Like you said… you don't come out of something like that without consequences."

Cal's stomach twisted. "Is he okay?"

Dean let a relieved smile through, "Yeah, he's okay. But I don't think he's waking up anytime soon… and my butts asleep."

"What happened?"

"Sammy got em…" Dean whispered proudly. "It's over." He sighed heavily, feeling the exhaustion deep within his bones. "Thank God it's over."

Cal kneeled down next to them. "Are you sure he's okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "I think the adrenaline just kicked out and the rest caught up with him… he's gonna be okay."

Cal smiled… and then he swallowed, hesitantly. Dean noticed, and gave a small nod. Cal responded with another small, this time grateful smile, as he slowly reached his hand out and ran his fingers over the younger brother's hand. He slipped his hand in its grasp and squeezed. Sam unconsciously gave a small squeeze back. Cal smiled widely… he'd been waiting for this… to be able to connect to this younger man not in halves, but as a whole. He looked up and could see the stoic comprehension in the elder Winchester's eyes. It wasn't condemning, just accepting.

He squeezed the hand again. "I'll go find Jamie." He offered and then turned and left.

Dean leaned his head against the wall with an easy sigh.

"So that's Cal?" A tired and quiet voice inquired.

Dean could not help the grin that stole across his lips at that voice, even if it sounded drained and horse. "The flower himself." He answered. There was a pause between them where he imagined his brother was trying to garner the strength to speak.

"We owe him a lot."

Dean's own tired eyes roamed the ceiling in thought. "Yeah we do." He looked down at the top of his brother's dark head suddenly and nudged him gently in the arm. "I thought you were asleep."

"I think I've slept enough, don't you?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "That wasn't sleeping. How much do you remember?"

Sam turned his thoughts back; the gaps that had seemed to be there before were slowly filling in. He drew in a deep breath, happy with just the simple task of breathing on his own. "It's hard to say."

"It's okay." Dean assured non-chalantly. "We'll talk about it later." Dean shifted his sore muscles a little, doing his best not to jostle the dead weight lying against him.

"Thanks."

"For what?" Dean asked, more out of pure reaction than honest curiosity.

Sam's eye-lids drooped slightly. "Unlocking the basement door all the time."

Dean paused. "You're gonna milk this whole '_weak-little-brother-in-hospital'_ deal for all its worth, aren't you?"

"Absolutely." Sam let a tired smile grace his features. "It's the only time I can initiate a chick-flick moment and get away with it."

"Abusive little monster." Dean teased. "You're welcome." He said quietly, and then quickly moved on to something other than his _grand _brotherly deed. "What did you _do_ down there anyways?"

There was a pause and Dean could almost see the shrug his brother would have delivered had he the strength. "Talked."

"You talked to a wall?"

Sam actually chuckled. "You talked to _yours_." He accused.

"Because I'm funny. And I only did it once."

"Before I made you paint clothes on her?"

Dean chuckled a little himself. "Crime of the century kiddo."

"You turned out alright."

Dean smirked. He tilted his head to the side, getting a good look at his younger brother skirting the edge of consciousness, completely limp against him. It was going to be a while before Sam was back to full, fighting strength; but Dean wasn't complaining… Sam had come out of his near brain dead state lacking all the complications Dean had been fearing... all the complications a _normal_ person would've had. _It could've been a lot worse_. And he wasn't just thinking of brain damage or even dying. There were worse things than death in their line of work.

"Hey Sam?" he asked quietly, not certain if the younger man was still in the land of the conscious. He barely heard the half-awake murmured response. "What'd the fish say when he ran into the wall?"

Sam snorted into laughter despite his exhausted state. Dean chuckled behind him, relishing the sound. "I thought we burned that book?" Sam whined.

"Yeah ya did, but they've got them on the internet now," Dean announced excitedly, "and they even send you one a day if you give em your email address."

"That would explain the increase of spam you've been getting."

"It's worth it." Dean shrugged.

"You woke me up for a stupid joke of the day?"

"Actually I woke you up cuz I can't feel my ass anymore and its starting to worry me." Dean shifted higher up the wall, bending his legs a bit, trying to push his limp brother up a little.

"Heaven forbid your higher brain functions fall asleep on you."

Dean paused mid-movement, an evil smirk on his face. "Bitch." He jabbed his finger into his brother's side, a well-known ticklish spot on the young man. Despite his bone-tired state, Sam's body curled up, a surprised laugh escaping his throat. Dean took the opportunity to escape from behind the youngest Winchester, crouching beside him and catching his shoulders before he fell back to the ground. He pulled him forward, and wrapped an arm across his back, pulling his brothers arm across his shoulders.

"Dean…" Sam hesitated, "I don't know if this is such a good idea."

"Why not?" Dean asked, a little concerned.

"Because I can hardly move, and you're not exactly one-hundred percent right now either."

"Quit worrying," Dean brushed off his brother's concerns, "Lavern and Shirley'll be here any minute now." He braced his own aching muscles, ready to stand and gave his brother a confident look. "We'll be fine." He heaved himself up, pulling his brother's weight with him. To Dean's credit, they'd made it to a full-upright position… right before the upward motion turned into a forward motion and the floor came up to greet them. The brothers landed on their faces, and neither moved. The wing went quiet once more.

"You're an idiot." Sam grunted.

"You need to lose some damn weight." Dean defended. A cough here, a wince there… the annoying ticking of the clock on the wall filled the embarrassed silence.

"Any minute now huh?"

"Shut up."

**TBC… **


	13. Chapter 13

**Bedeviling the Chipper**

**By**: Maygin

**Summary**: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer

**Disclaimer**: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**End Note: **Well my friends, as all things, this too has come to an end. I hope you've enjoyed this long-winded piece of insanity; if not then you're probably the wiser. Thank you so much for all the reviews! If there's something in here that you don't understand or didn't get or even perhaps were looking for more detail, just let me know. I know some have asked what happened in certain areas that I didn't really expound on, so please do ask… I only charge one dolla per question. ;)

**CHAPTER 13**

"What the hell am I gonna do with all this?" Dean asked, holding up the white paper bag.

"It's not for you punkin," Jamie explained knowingly. He knew Dean was still embarrassed at the state he and Cal had found the Winchesters in when they'd returned. Face down and completely vulnerable… it was an image he'd cherish until the day he died. He gently pushed the bag back towards the younger man. "It's for your brother. And you'd better make sure he takes them or you'll have problems down the road."

Dean grimaced, opening the bag and searching the contents with his eyes. "What'd you bag the entire pharmacy?"

Jamie shoved a thick folder into his other hand. "This'll explain what needs to be taken, when and why." Dean looked incredulously at the folder. "Now I included some precautionary medications in there in case some complications arise-"

"Complications?"

The larger man laid a patient hand on the folder. "Follow the directions and you'll be fine."

Dean threw him an annoyed look. "These aren't directions, it's a friggin encyclopedia," he said a bit distracted as his eyes skimmed over the pages and pages of 'directions.' "Wait a second-" he fumbled the folder around a bit, trying to dislodge a single sheet while not dropping the _pharmacy_ neslted in the crook of his elbow; he held up the sheet giving it a closer inspection, "What the hell is… Hydroxy…trypto-shit whatever?"

"Hydroxytryptophan" Jamie smirked. "They're happy pills… Calantha said you were having anger issues."

Dean froze, sending a deadly glare at the nurse which obviously was having no effect. "Happy pills." He said flatly.

"I'm gonna miss you boys." Jaime daintily rested his hand on the other man's arm.

Dean shoved the papers back into the folder and tossed it and the bag into the back seat of his beloved chariot. "Thanks…" he turned back to the towering man, "seriously. I hope we didn't cause too much trouble."

Jamie clucked his tongue and looked at him sideways, hands on his hips. "Are you kidding me? You boys were no trouble at all." He assured with a flamboyant air. "I mean you scared the hell out of a few hundred patients and doctors, but that's what the back-up generator is for. No harm done punkin."

Dean pressed his lips together and gave an awkward nod. The back door to the hospital suddenly opened, saving him from further embarrassment. "Bout damn time." He grouched loudly.

"You have no idea how difficult it is to be covert in this hospital." Cal over-dramatized. He was pushing a wheel chair through the back entrance with one Samuel Winchester in it looking a bit uncomfortable.

Dean chuckled slightly at his brother's appearance. He'd lost the scrubs, and was once more in his own jeans and t-shirt with one of Dean's old, grey sweatshirt hoodies on top. He was also wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

"Nice disguise." Dean commented sarcastically, flicking the tip of the cap.

Sam swatted his hand away in annoyance. "Shut up… at least it worked." He said, keeping his head down.

"No troubles?" Dean asked, looking at his brother's chauffer.

"If by troubles you mean the un-ending crowds of media blocking off just about every elevator and floor, then no… we were able to avoid them for the most part."

Dean frowned a little at his brothers quiet and shadowed attitude, he tilted his head down as his eye caught site of something red on the younger man's cheek. "For the most part?" he asked Cal distractedly as he swiftly removed the baseball cap from his brother's head to get a closer look.

"Dean!" Sam made a lunge for the hat but Dean held it out of reach, a smile quickly alighting his features.

"What the hell is that?" he chuckled.

Sam made another grab for the hat, "None of your business, just- Dean!" Sam threw his brother a withering glare.

"What'd you get mauled by an Avon lady?" Dean asked humorously, referring to the numerous lip-stick smears and kiss marks on the younger man's face.

Cal rolled his eyes with a huff, "Try a group of twelve year olds girls who just happened to slip past hospital security. I thought I was gonna have to beat them off with a stick."

Sam turned a nice shade of red under the other men's humored scrutiny.

"What the hell did they want?" Dean asked curiously. "Other than your body."

"Can I have the hat back please?"

"Well," Cal licked his thumb and started rubbing at one of lip marks on the embarrassed man's forehead, "I think they were apart of Samuels fan club out front," Dean tried so very hard not to burst out laughing as his brother swiped at Cal's hand in annoyance, "but somehow they snuck inside and knew all the back routes… I swear they must've memorized the hospital blue-prints or something."

Jaime took pity on the young man and pulled a wet wipe from his pocket, handing it to the red-faced brother. Sam mumbled a thank you and quickly began wiping the lipstick off.

"Could've been worse." Dean tossed his brother's hat back. "Considering the crowds out front I'm surprised you made it this far without anyone else stopping you." He looked down at his brother again. "Sure you don't want to go celebrate your recovery out front with your fan club?"

"Sure you don't want to go to jail?" Sam glared back.

Dean's smile faltered, "Good point." He turned to the man behind him, holding his hand out. "Jamie? Thanks for all your help." Jamie shook the man's hand in both his, smiling prettily and batting his eyelashes.

"The pleasure has been all mine punkin."

Dean gave him a quick smile, pulling his hand back and turned to Cal. Dean held his hand out. "Cal?" Cal rolled his eyes, swatted the hand and moved past it, wrapping his arms around the elder Winchester who simply froze.

Cal sighed deeply and contentedly. "You take care of yourself Dean." The said brother grunted uncomfortably. Cal pulled back, gripping the other man's arms. "And take care of my little ghost over there." Dean chanced a glance at his younger brother who had a smug smile firmly in place just for him. Dean grimaced, giving a small shake on his arms to loosen Cal's grip.

Cal kissed his finger and pressed it to Dean's forehead while he was still distracted. "You two are so precious." He quickly stepped towards the other brother while Dean rubbed furiously at his forehead with his jacket sleeve. Sam slapped his hat on his head just as Cal kissed his finger again. The blond man gave him an indignant look and swiped the hat off, grasped Sam's head and leaned down and gave him an abnormally loud kiss on his head. "My very own Patrick Swayze." Cal babied, as he messed his hand through the younger man's hair before handing the hat back.

"Oh God." Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, get in the car."

"Here, let me help." Jamie opened the passenger door and helped move the weak young man into the car.

"Thanks Jamie. Thank you Cal." Sam said sincerely before they shut his door for him.

"Be good."

"Come back and haunt me anytime!"

Dean's door opened up and he slid comfortably into his seat, relishing the familiarity of him in the driver's seat and his brother in the other. It didn't matter what state they were in… just so long as they were _in_. He couldn't help it; he turned to look at his very much alive kid brother. Sam tilted his head to acknowledge the oddly rare moment Dean was savoring.

Sam gave him a small smile. "So… punkin…"

"Don't-" Dean held a hand up, giving his brother the serious eye now, "…don't start that shit up dude."

"Maybe you should break out the happy pills."

"You think that's funny?" he growled.

Sam slouched further into his seat, shrugging one shoulder. "Sorry, I was just saying," he said not at all sorry and still grinning like a chesire.

"Alright look, I'll make you a deal: I will stop calling you Sammy if you promise to never… _ev-er_… call me that again." He looked hard into his brother's eyes. He was serious, but there was this damned ticker-tape parade that kept going off in the back of his mind every time he looked into his brother's eyes and realized there was life in them. His little brother was alive and kickin… okay so they still had a ways to go before he was kickin, but he was alive. And that softened Dean's glare. "Deal?" he asked gently.

A slow, touched smile, alighted Sam's face and he gave a small nod. "Deal."

The corner of Dean's lips lifted into a grin, knowing he'd never keep _his_ side of the bargain. He reached over and mussed his brother's hair before turning back to the wheel. "Alright then!" he said enthusiastically. "Let's get this bitch back on the road!" He turned the key and suddenly the deep voice of Barry White filled every crevice of the impala. _"What the fu-"_

**THE END**


	14. Deleted Scenes

**END NOTE PART DEUX:** Okay, well… I wasn't going to include this simply because I thought it was kind of a lame idea in the fiction world, but then I got all these great reviews, and I thought some of you might get a kick out of them. Therefore, here they be. When I write a story, I usually end up writing future scenes and eventually connect them somehow into the storyline, however I just couldn't get these in there somewhere without making them excess baggage… so I'm dumping them _here_ as excess baggage. :) I hope you guys like em… no need to tell me how dumb they are, I'm fully aware… but again, I thought some of you might like them. Thanks again for torturing your eyes on this thing… it was fun!

**ALTERNATE ENDING**

Cal and Jaime waved at the departing Impala. They blew kisses until it pulled around the bend of another building and disappeared. Cal sighed sadly and pulled the blessed hankie from his pocket, gazing at it longingly.

"What's that?" Jamie asked, resting his arm on the shorter man's shoulders.

Cal sighed again, "A gift."

"Oooh," Jamie threw him a worried look, "I didn't even think of getting them a goodbye gift."

"I took care of it." Cal said non-chalantly as he slipped a long, thin sheet of white paper from his pocket.

Jamie took the receipt and read it over as they started making their way towards their own car. His eyes widened with delight. "You sly dog." He said saucily. Cal graced him with a positively feral grin. "Twenty-five pairs of _whitey-tighty Calvin Kleins_?" Cal's response was to simply thread the hankie in-between his fingers, quite proud of himself. "Do they know?"

"Oh hell no." he snorted as Jamie unlocked the car doors. "I hid them in their bags while they were still inside."

Jamie opened his door and gave his friend a sympathetic smile, "You _know_ those boys are never gonna wear em."

The two men daintily slid into their seats and closed the doors. "Unless they have no choice." Cal smiled coyly at Jamie's confused and then wary expression. He subtly flicked his eyes towards the back seat. Jamie slowly turned his head to look into the back. His eyes widened as did his smile. There, lying in all their glory, were 13 pairs of modest looking boxer shorts.

"I say we frame them." Cal stated excitedly.

"You are _evil_ sister." Jamie chuckled, turning back around.

"Yes-I-am!" he smiled proudly. "Now lets get home and have a little downtime hmm?" he asked with flirty eyes. "Some coffee… chocolate pie… a little background music…"

"Sounds nice." Jamie purred. He turned the key and suddenly the car was blaring with the screeching guitars and pounding drums of Metallica.

Cal grimaced, "What the hell happened to Kelly Clarkson!"

**DELETED SCENE 1**

Cal gratefully exited the vehicle, letting the clean air invade his ears. He hoped it would help bring back some semblance of hearing after the fifteen minutes of screaming men and blaring guitars. "Maybe next time we can listen to something else."

Dean snorted, obviously finding this suggestion humorous. "My car, my music."

Cal followed the elder brother as he walked away. "I've got a Kelly Clarkson c.d. in my car…"

Cal's brow furrowed in confusion as Dean suddenly paused and then turned and started walking back towards the car. He hurriedly caught up with him. "Where are you going?"

"To get my gun." He said plainly.

Cal suddenly grasped tightly onto Dean's arm in fear and his head swiveled around looking for the impending doom. "What? Why?"

"I'm gonna shoot you." Dean replied casually, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Carson immediately released the older brother's arm and froze. He then quickly relaxed; hand on hip in an accusing manner and a smirk on his lips. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were serious."

He paused, one hand holding the trunk of the Impala up, a serious look on his face, "Oh no, I'm gonnashoot you." He affirmed, pulling one of the shot-guns out.

Carson's smirk had a sudden heart attack and died. He looked to his right, towards the car. "What are _you _laughing at? He's _your_ brother! _Do_ something," he gestured flamboyantly and then pointed a finger commandingly towards Dean, "slime him!"

Dean could just imagine his brother's response and had to put a lot of effort into not laughing himself.

**DELETED SCENE 2 (I'd like to apologize for this, however it's for Tezpin… it was your idea after all ;)**

Jamie finally nodded and headed down the hallway at a quick jog. The other two followed closely behind, glancing behind them every few seconds.

"You're gonna need this." Jamie tossed his card key to Dean. "It'll get you into the wing."

"And it's all cleared?"

"Yeah. Took a lot of persuading, but I've got a good staff."

Dean paused; his brain was obviously on overload and had gone into some kind of psychotic shock because his mind dropped straight into the gutter. He gave a tightlipped smile. "Good for you."

Jamie gave a short nod in agreement, "I _was_ working with a smaller staff but after about three years the lack of productivity and performance issues finally got to me. I had a larger staff transferred under my care and now we're unstoppable. We get a lot of recognition."

Dean swallowed, his voice awkwardly strained, "I'm sure you do."

Cal looked back and forth between the two, recognizing _exactly_ what it was the older Winchester was thinking. He gave a short chuckle and casually tossed his hand in the air. "I can vouch for his staff!"

Dean felt his face heat up at his transparency. "Shut-up Cal." he grumbled.

"No really," Cal pressed on, a wide smile on his face, "when this is all over, I'll introduce you to Jamie's staff."

Dean glared at Cal, "No thanks; I'm not really a people person."

"Are you kidding me?" Jamie cried, "With your cute little ass? My staff would go nuts over you."

"Oh for cryin out loud." Dean mumbled and swiped the key through the lock, effectively ending the downhill conversation.

**The End… End **

…**or is it?**


End file.
